


a holy fool all colored blue

by leiaorganaa



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Idiots in Love, Nobility, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4506399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiaorganaa/pseuds/leiaorganaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Corypheus' defeat, Elaine Trevelyan and Cullen Rutherford find their most difficult task to be navigating a relationship. </p><p>Featuring the Inquisitor's family, feelings of inadequacy, and marriage plots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The night after she sent Corypheus into the Fade, Elaine dreamt.

She was in the garden of her parents’ house. The air was thick with flowers and soft voices and she trailed her hand along a wall of green. She was small. The voices grew closer and she turned  -  but hands took her by the waist and she was lifted into the air, settled against a man's shoulder.

“Andraste preserve you, Elaine.” Her mother’s gentle, chastising voice trailed like a song from a faraway place. “You’ll get filthy. And right before dinner.”

The person holding her - her brother - chuckled. She felt the vibrations. “I always knew we were just alike, Ellie.”

“Don’t encourage her, Alec.”

Elaine felt herself shift, and gazed up into her brother’s blue gaze. His hair shone in the sunshine.

“We’ll get a sword in your hand in no time, just wait. We’ll be warriors together.”

-

Elaine woke an adult, to the soft press of lips against her neck. She turned to Cullen and felt a slow smile break across her lips, a very lazy thing. There was time for lazy things now. She pushed the dream away and gazed at the man in bed with her for a moment. Maker, he was something. All broad and golden. “What was that for?”

“I’m not sure,” Cullen kissed her forehead, “but-” her lips, “I couldn’t help myself. You are…”

One would think she'd be used to the way he looked at her by now. Like she was glowing. It made Elaine warm from the inside, a little sun dizzy but delirious with joy.

She framed his face in her hands and kissed him. Open and filthy. He groaned and went pliant under her. Their skin slid together and she hoisted herself up to straddle him, curling her hands through his hair. 

The blanket slid off and she squeaked in alarm as a draft of bitter cold hit her back.

Cullen laughed, eyes still hot with lust. “Let’s stay in bed this morning.”

Elaine pretended to think it over. “I suppose I deserve it.”

They didn’t make it to the hall until the sun was already high in the clouds. There were a few scraps of breakfast waiting and some good-natured ribbing from Elaine’s companions, who were in various states of being from the night of good cheer and bountiful alcohol. Elaine was surprised by how similar things felt. There had been a voice in the back of her head convinced that once Corypheus had been defeated, her wonderfully strange friends would drift away, one by one. But it seemed they were here to stay. Skyhold had become a home for all of them. 

She was most amazed, however, at the change in Cullen. He sat talking animatedly with a young soldier, dressed in a loose linen shirt with his hair curling gently around the ears. For Cullen, that was practically lounging. He looked younger, as if someone had smoothed away the creases on his forehead. 

Varric sidled up to her, and she watched him take in Cullen with a curious expression. "I've never seen Curly so...loose. How'd you do that?" Elaine raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, and he winced. "Point taken. Never mind." 

Spread out in front of him was a few sheets of parchment, a quill, and an inkpot. Elaine recalled their conversation. The book. She’d be lying if she said the idea didn’t thrill her a little. Having a version of her living forever in ink, even if no one ever read it - it was powerful. And flattering, depending on the light Varric cast her in. “Getting started already?”

“Just writing some stuff down. Gotta catch it before it’s gone, right?”

Elaine nodded solemnly. “I hear that happens with age.” 

Varric snorted, and then looked...uncomfortable. That made Elaine uncomfortable, and she watched him shift a couple times before making a show of dipping the quill into the inkpot. “Hey. I’m, uh, rooting for you and Curly, you know. And not just because it's great for the book.”

Elaine softened, smiling before she could help it. “Thank you, Varric.”

Varric looked even more uncomfortable. “I mean, if you two can’t make it, who can? You’re the best looking blonde people here.”

She rolled her eyes. “ _Thank you_ , Varric. That’s definitely what drew us to each other.”

“What drew us to each other?” Cullen wrapped an arm around her waist. The soldier he'd been speaking to was sidling away, looking both relieved and awed.  

Elaine grinned at Varric and then at Cullen. “How good looking we are, apparently. And blonde.”

“Oh.” A faint flush spread across Cullen’s cheeks. “I - uh - suppose we are. Both blonde.”

Varric threw his head back and laughed, a wonderful, full body laugh that made Elaine’s body hum with affection.

Later, on the way to the war room, Cullen stepped close behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I meant to say, earlier…”

Elaine twisted in his grasp and kissed him, enjoying the way his eyes glazed over for a moment. “Yes?”

“Well. I do think you are quite good looking. Beautiful, actually.” He brushed her hair behind her ear. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

It was cheesy and ridiculous, but Elaine found herself grinning. “Flatterer.”

“I mean it.” He kissed her deeply, and she moaned a little, wrapping her arms around his neck. He tugged her flush against him and they began to drift towards the wall, entwined in each other. Then the door to the war room creaked open.

“Really? While we wait?” Leliana’s voice cut between them, on the line between exasperated and amused. Directly on the line. They extricated themselves and hurried through the open door, red in the face with mumbled apologies.

As different as it seemed when she looked back, most of Elaine’s time in the Inquisition had been occupied with things other than Corypheus. And even with the magister’s defeat, those many little things did not disappear. There were still rifts to close and supplies to be collected. If the Inquisition was to continue, as if even Elaine could stand in its way now, it needed to sustain its name in the complex web of Thedas politics. 

After many hours talking about alliances and conflicts and offended parties and favors, Elaine almost wished for a demon to fight. She knew how to do that. She supposed it was a good thing that she had gone to the Circle instead of the Chantry or some Ostwick nobleman’s home for the rest of her life. Being the third child in a noble family meant that certain skills were not as cultivated. Especially if that child happened to be a mage. She did not have much of a head for The Game. It required a bottomless well of patience, as well as the ability to mask your true emotions for your entire life. She had struggled with that in Halamshiral for one night, when Thedas’ future depended on it. 

Elaine was in a quiet mood when they left the council meeting. She planned on dedicating herself to the Inquisition for as long as it would have her, but that role was shaping to be something very different now that Corypheus was gone. She had always been honored by her apparent ability to inspire people, but would she be doing that for the rest of her life? She had to improve her political skill, that much was certain. Right now, she was relying on the fact that most thought everything she said came from Andraste herself. But it was as Josie had said in the meeting, eyes sparkling: in a time of peace, the people looked for positive change. And that frightened Elaine, under the looming shadow of her alter egos.

“Elaine,” Cullen was staring at her with concern. “Are you alright?”

She smiled and tried to shake her thoughts away. It was an endless loop. It went nowhere. “It’s a lot to consider.”

“What is?”

She grabbed his hand. “The future.”

-

The peace in Skyhold made Elaine uneasy. That wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy the sustained period of being safe and alive - but she didn’t like the way people looked at her. The everyday people. It was a look made of awe, fear, and in some cases a devotion bordering on cultish. A serving girl had fallen in front of her weeping the other day because Elaine had closed a rift near her brother’s house in the Hinterlands. When she excused herself to get around a stable boy, he'd turned white and apologized profusely while offering her any service he could provide for the rest of his life. 

"Do I look mean?" she asked Cullen one night, gesticulating towards her face. "Just - naturally?" That conversation had ended with sex on the desk and no concrete answer.

Elaine was most content in two places - roving the corners of Thedas and wrapped around Cullen in bed. Unfortunately, the former occupation often brought her away from the latter. It took a few months to strike the right balance, and even then Elaine knew that she was neglecting something. Too frequently, it was Cullen.

He was just too relaxing to be around. Ten minutes in his office with a glass of some concoction she’d found on her travels, and she was dozing off. She’d wake up in the darkness, groggy, wondering how he’d managed to carry her up the ladder and into bed. If she was too wired to sleep, she’d daydream. Or they'd go a few sweaty, wonderful rounds and collapse into sleep, beginning it all again the next day. 

“We should talk,” she said one morning, when he was already pawing sleepily at her. It was one of the rare times that they’d made it to her quarters. 

Cullen stopped abruptly. “That sounds serious.”

“No, no!” Elaine smiled to reassure him and propped herself up on an elbow, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “We just don’t talk enough, hmm? Either I’m away, and I come back and I’m tired…”

Cullen’s face brightened, because, Elaine was sure, that she hadn’t announced she was leaving him or something. “Absolutely. What would you like talk about?”

“Anything. Your family. The soldiers. The weather.” She chuckled, remembering his stutter on the battlements when he’d first kissed her. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Anything. Well, I got a letter from Mia a few days ago. I sent her one, to let her know that I survived, Corypheus was defeated...and I informed her about my relationship with you.”

Elaine grinned and kissed him quickly to hide the sudden lurch of nerves in her belly. “That’s amazing, Cullen.” Cullen’s family. Would they want to meet her? Would they even like her?

“Yes, well, there were some rude jokes - I assume my brother got ahold of it - but she seemed happy for me. She asked when I was bringing you home.” Cullen reached up and cupped her cheek in one hand, holding her gaze. “I haven’t written my reply yet.”

“Oh.” Elaine felt her chest constrict. “That would be…”

A raven squawked rudely from the window. Cullen groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. “No! Not yet.”

“Good thing Skyhold doesn't know that the Commander's gotten so lazy. We'd be ruined!” Elaine hopped out of bed, slipped into a robe, and made her way over. “Hello,” she cooed, stroking the raven’s head before detaching the letter. She froze when she saw the seal.

“Elaine?” Cullen said. When she didn’t answer, he got out of bed and came over to her. “Elaine, what’s wrong?”

“Oh. Nothing!” Elaine let the raven go. It squawked gratefully and she turned, letter clutched tightly in her hands. “It’s, um, from my family.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elaine experiences a family tragedy, and sets out for Ostwick.

At some point, Cullen had pried the letter from her grasp. She had to sit down. He took her by the arm and knelt beside her on the floor as she sank, murmuring things she didn’t hear. Her gaze dropped from her hands to a spot between two wooden boards. The air hummed strangely around her ears.

Cullen uncrumpled the letter and skimmed it. He inhaled sharply. Setting it down and taking her hands in his, he ducked down to catch her eye. “Elaine. I am so sorry.” When she didn’t, couldn’t answer, he pulled her to his chest and sighed. A wet patch began under her cheek as she began to cry.

Her vibrant, handsome brother was dead. Alec. In a hunting accident of all, pointless things. Leaving behind a wife and nephew that she’d never met. She choked out a sob, fisting a hand in Cullen’s shirt. When was the last time she’d even seen him? She racked her mind for an answer, settling after a few terrifying moments of not knowing.

Before her Harrowing. She was sitting in her room, shaking and afraid when one of the senior enchanters knocked and announced that she had a visitor. He was the only family member who had come to see her. They walked in the garden - and he distracted her with tales of the frilly Orlesians he’d met on business. And at the end, smiling, he’d taken her hand and said, “It’s okay to be afraid, Ellie. But you’ll be fine. And I’ll be waiting on the other side.” Elaine’s breath left her in a rush when she realized that she couldn’t remember what his smile looked like.

She sobbed into Cullen’s shirt, desperate and aching. He stroked her hair for a few moments before hooking an arm under her knees and one around her waist, lifting her to his chest like a child. He carried her to the bed, gently setting her down before crawling in beside her.

-

“I don’t know what to do, Cassandra. There has to be something.” Cullen stared miserably into the bottom of his tankard. “She said she wanted to be alone, but I feel terrible leaving her.”

Cassandra, looking considerably less sharp around the edges, took a drink.

The mood in the tavern was quiet. No one knew what was wrong, but the Inquisitor had not left her room all day. Word spread quickly from a single scout that the day’s council meeting had consisted only of Josephine and Leliana, with Cullen making a brief, haggard appearance. Cullen and Cassandra sat at a corner table on the first floor, as secluded as possible while being close to the alcohol. Cullen could feel the eyes of people looking at him while pretending not to look at him. It set his teeth on edge, but he didn’t want to sit alone in his office.

“I think everyone grieves differently, my friend,” Cassandra said slowly. “Perhaps...the best thing you can do for her is to let her be. I know that’s not what you want to hear -” she held up a hand as Cullen tried to protest “- but you must let her decide.”

Cullen sighed. And drank. At least the silence between them was easy. Asked to describe his relationship with Cassandra, Cullen was not sure he would be able to find the words. She was more than a dear friend. He wouldn’t have see the fight with Corypheus through without her.

Without warning, the tavern door opened. Cullen, sinking a little in his chair, watched Dorian glide through with Iron Bull striding easily behind him. The mage looked around the tavern, spotted him, and walked over with every pair of eyes watching. Cullen had learned quickly that Dorian had that effect on a room.

“Commander,” he said silkily. “I must know, what is the matter with your better half? She hasn’t been to visit me once today, and Josephine was sitting in the hall to shoo anyone approaching her quarters.”

Bull shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s just resting, right? I tried to tell him - “ he nudged Dorian with his elbow, who scoffed in offense as he wobbled dangerously, “- not everyone has our kind of stamina.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Cassandra’s lip was curling at a dangerous angle, “but the Inquisitor is dealing with some personal matters today.”

“You’ll have to do better than that, or I’ll just ask a maid.”

Dorian and Cassandra stared each other down, before Cullen sighed. “She’s had...a death in the family.” Cassandra shot him a scathing look, but he bore down and continued. “Her brother. She’s not taking it well”

“Not all of us have your fortitude, Commander.”  Dorian’s voice lacked the usual bite.

“Poor Boss, Somebody should be with her, huh?”

“That is what we were discussing. She said she wished to be alone.” Cullen took another drink, and gazed blearily at Dorian. He was starting to feel fuzzy around the edges. He found words tripping off his tongue before he had a chance to think about them. “I just want to be what she deserves. I want - I want to do right.”

Dorian patted him on the hand.

-

Elaine showed up outside of her room the next morning, which was a shock to the prying ears of the tavern. Several strains of gossip were traveling through the castle by that time. They ranged from the simple, that Cullen and Elaine had separated and neither were coping well, to the more complicated, that Elaine’s entire family had been murdered by Corypheus, who was back for a third time.

Elaine wished she was in bed again as soon as she entered the hall. There was no telling how much people tracked your daily movements until you deviated from them. She thought, dimly, that she would ask Hawke about that if she ever saw her again. Trying her best to ignore the eyes on her, she kept her head down and made for Josephine’s office.

Her advisor rose as soon as she entered. “Inquisitor. You have my deepest sympathies.”

“Thank you, Josie.” Elaine cleared her throat, trying to stop it from closing up again. That would, inevitably, lead to tears. “I need to arrange a trip to Ostwick. For…” She felt her eyes fill and blinked furiously, swiping the tears away with the back of her hand.

“Of course,” Josephine said quickly. She set her writing tablet aside and approached Elaine, gently taking her hands. “I will take care of everything. You may leave tomorrow, if you wish. Is there anyone that you would like to take with you?”

Elaine ducked her head and chuckled. It sounded so small and sad that she was appalled at herself. “Do you think it’s a good time to introduce Cullen to my parents?”

-

_Mother and Father,_

_I grieve deeply at this news. I will be traveling as quickly as possible to Ostwick for the funeral services, as you request. Accompanying me will be Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, and Lord Dorian Pavus. He is a distant relation of our family, and wished to pay his respects._

_Your daughter,_

_Elaine Cordelia Trevelyan_

-

They rode long days, leaving Elaine with only little conversation to field before they slept briefly and rose early. The ache of the hard journey was little compared to the pain of Alec’s death. He came to her in dreams and wisps of memory, bringing her to tears at the most inconvenient moments.The riding helped a little. Cullen radiated worry when he was putting his arms around her at night or riding beside her through a village, but Elaine was fighting to keep herself afloat. She hoped he understood that she didn’t have room for much else.

They boarded a ship at the coast, a small but well-kept thing with a cheerful Fereldan captain. They could have ported in Kirkwall and ridden to Ostwick, but Elaine knew the shadow that still passed over Cullen’s face when he spoke about the city. The downside, however, was that she sacrificed space.

They sat together in the cabin, swaying back and forth as Elaine stared out of the window and Cullen stared at Elaine. Dorian occasionally broke the silence with a joke or cutting commentary about Fereldan craftsmanship, and they smiled wanly at him before resuming their previous occupation. Finally, into the fourth hour, Dorian stood so abruptly that they both jumped.

“I am going for some air, even though I shall likely get sick. Please speak to each other, because I would rather set this craft aflame than spend another waking moment this way.” He regarded them both, sniffed, and left the cabin with the heavy door slamming behind him. Cullen watched him go, pink in the cheeks like a schoolboy who had been called out in class.

“He’s right. This is miserable.” Elaine sighed and leaned against Cullens shoulder. Under the scent of many day’s travel, he smelled just as he always did. Musk and the faint hint of elderflower, although he had forgone the concoction he applied to his hair for most of their travels.  As a lovely consequence, the curls had grown more wild by the day. She slid her fingers through them, dragging her nails along his scalp. He sighed, sinking into her touch. Now that she had broken their silence and met his eyes, Elaine felt some warmth bleed back in. “I’m sorry I’ve been this way.”

“Do not apologize.” Cullen took her chin in his hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help you. I wish I knew what to say.”

She smiled and kissed him softly. “You being here helps me. Just believe me when I say I’ll be alright.”

He kissed her back and they embraced that way for a few moments, lips brushing and hands stroking. Elaine then kissed him on the cheek and settled against his chest, He hummed happily and held her there, twining his hand with hers. Soon, they gentle rhythm of the boat had carried them to sleep.

-

Elaine started fidgeting as soon as the familiar white walls of Ostwick rose into view. Dorian left the boat first, claiming that he needed to find a private place to empty his insides. Cullen clambered down next, then took Elaine by the waist and swung her down beside him. When he saw how nervous she was, he took her by the hand and slowly, they walked down the pier. The air was thick with early mist and the chatter of boats coming in and out.

“This must be strange for you,” he said, watching her take in their surroundings.

Elaine nodded. “I rarely left the Circle after going in. My mother didn’t want to risk the humiliation, By the time I passed my Harrowing, restrictions had increased. It never got as bad as Kirkwall, but -” she glanced at him, “- the Templars were nervous.”

Cullen sighed. “No one should be exiled from their home.”

“My home was...not eager to have me back.” Her gaze grew distant. “I was supposed to go to Alec’s wedding, but my family decided at the last minute that it was too much of a risk.”

“I’m so sorry.” Cullen pulled her into an embrace. Elaine buried her face in his coat for a long moment before Dorian shouted at them from the street.

“I’d like to bathe soon, if you please!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thank you so much for reading this far, i hope you're enjoying the story. things are pretty doom and gloom, but i'd be lying if i said i didn't love drama. next chapter, we meet the parents!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the Trevelyans, and Elaine finds some peace.

Josephine had insisted on a carriage to the Trevelyan’s estate, to, as the ambassador put it, “Show your family that you aren’t completely ruined for polite society.” It was a deep blue with expensive-looking cushions and intricate wood paneling on the inside. Elaine had never felt filthier in her life. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and shook it, then yanked it together at the top of her skull into a much tighter bun. Cullen and Dorian watched, wincing.

The carriage began to move, and Elaine settled back against the seat. “We should have gone to an inn first. Look at us.”

“I’m sure your parents will understand.” Cullen took her hand and began to rub circles with his thumb. “Besides, you’re beautiful.” He smiled at her, and she found herself smiling back. It was an unfamiliar expression, these past few days. It felt like she was dusting it off to be used again.

Dorian sighed loudly. “When I said you were to speak to each other, I didn’t mean so I could be ignored. I can’t sicken _you_ with loving embraces.”

“Oh, Dorian.” Elaine nudged him gently with her boot. “Aren’t you happy? It’s humid outside.”

He smirked at her. “As always, a comedian beyond compare. Yes, it is nicer than I was expecting. I haven’t spent much time in the Marches. Vivienne is rather unforgiving in her description.”

“I would be terrified and elated to live in a world that met Vivienne’s expectations.”

Cullen snorted. “I believe she’s insinuated multiple times that I smell of dog. I told her we don’t keep dogs. She wrinkled her nose and said, “If you’re _sure_.” Elaine giggled at his butchered attempt at the woman’s cultured accent. He turned to her at the sound. light dancing in his eyes. “Maybe we should have a kennel. It would be good for morale.”

Dorian groaned. “As long as they’re at the opposite end of the castle from me. The last thing I need is for my robes to smell of mabari.”

-

Her newfound cheer was wearing thin as they approached the Trevelyan estate. The road pulled up into a cleared area for carriages. Once there, it was a long path of white archways to the main house. Named Seahill Cottage by an ancestor, it was a massive building of white brick and dark, slanted rooves. Not quite a castle, but it stood like a beacon in the countryside.. She’d played in its gilded rooms and sprawling gardens for eight years, but it didn’t feel like home when she looked at it now. It only brought Elaine the cloying pang of nostalgia.

She could see a group of people waiting halfway up the path, clustered under an archway. She recognized the slender form of her mother and the dignified, sloping shoulders of her father. Beside them was a woman that Elaine didn’t recognize, holding an infant. She guessed her to be Alec’s widow. And another woman in her early forties that Elaine realized, with a shock, was her sister. She hadn’t seen Vanessa Trevelyan for almost ten years.

“Are you ready?” Cullen murmured. She swallowed and nodded, eyes still on her family as they stepped out of the carriage. She felt Alec’s absence like a wound. He should have been standing on the path, waiting for her. She would have embarrassed herself by running to him, and her mother would cluck while Alec swung her in a circle and kissed her on the head. Her chest tightened.

Bann Marcus Trevelyan was a lean, stern-faced man with grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Elaine had Lady Catherine Trevelyan’s blonde hair. Her mother’s was shot through with white,. Catherine had been a great beauty as a girl, and her looks had hardly changed as Elaine was growing up. Now, however, both parents’ features seemed small and tired. Alec’s death had aged them both considerable. They were dressed in black instead of the Trevelyan blue, simple yet expensive looking clothes threaded with silver. Catherine held out her hands, decorated with rings. Elaine took them and tried for a wavering smile.

“Mother. Father.”

“Oh, my dear,” Catherine breathed, and pulled her in for a delicate embrace. “Look at you. So grown up.”

“Elaine,” Marcus nodded. She clasped his hand in turn, but his face hardly changed. It stung more than Elaine expected it to. It was as if little time as passed, and she was still a child yearning for her father’s approval. That had become impossible when her magic came.

Vanessa Trevelyan was blonde and slender like their mother, but her face was hardened by their father’s harshness of mouth. Elaine knew that she’d had children  - how many now, she wasn’t sure, but it was visible in the lines around her eyes. Elaine embraced her and felt, to her surprise, something; perhaps the twinge of affection for the glittering younger woman of her childhood. Vanessa was already married with two children when Elaine went to the Circle. She had vague memories of Vanessa in chaises, with teacups, always in conversation with their mother about marriage and childbirth and childrearing. Her sister had always seemed a distant, beautiful statue.

“Lady Gemma Trevelyan, and her son, James Marcus Trevelyan.” Catherine softened. “Alec’s son.”

Gemma couldn’t have been much older than Elaine herself. She was a petite woman with young, open features. She had a dark braid far down her back, and her eyes were rimmed red as if she had been recently crying. Elaine recognized her own wobbling smile on the other woman’s face. The baby cooed and hesitantly, Elaine stroked his tiny hand with one finger. This was Alec’s son, the last part of him remaining in this world. He gurgled and smiled at her. His eyes sparkled.

Elaine cleared her throat and stepped back. “I’m honored to meet you, Lady Gemma. May I introduce Ser Cullen Rutherford.” she gestured to her right, “and Lord Dorian Pavus.” Both men bowed, and were given nods in return.

“Lord Pavus.” Bann Trevelyan began. “I’ve done business with your father. How is Halward?”

To his credit, Dorian’s smile didn’t crack. Either the Trevelyans were not up to date in Tevinter gossip, or Marcus wanted to see you Dorian would react. “He’s doing quite well. My family positively taunts me with tales of the Tevinter summer that I’m missing.”

“Why don’t we go inside.” Catherine linked arms with Dorian, and the party began towards the house. “I have a feeling, Lord Pavus, that you’ll do some good for the atmosphere.”

Elaine let the party go a few paces ahead and turned to Cullen. Her stomach churned at the fact that he’d practically been ignored. “I’m sorry, Cullen. They’re distracted, but I’ll speak to them.”

Cullen smiled tightly at her. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

-

The Trevelyan crypt was a cool, clean building far out on the grounds. Several generations of the family were entombed there, accessible by a narrow stone staircase that spiraled underground. Elaine had only gone down there once as a child, at her father’s insistence. It had scared her so badly that she’d never gone back. Now, she felt the same whisperings against her skin and understood that the Veil was thinner here.

Each member of the family had their visage carved in white stone on top of their tombs. Farther down, names began to wear away. Some were only faces, staring blankly into the darkness with no one to remember them. Alec was in the main hall. His stone face shone, illuminated by the hundreds of candles lit for him. Elaine stepped towards it, fragrance rising to meet her as she crushed a few fallen flower petals underfoot. The outside of his tomb was lined with them. She leaned over and brushed her lips over the cool surface of his cheek. “May the Light lead you safely, through the paths of this world and into the next,” she murmured.

She sat beside the tomb for a while, telling Alec of some of the adventures of the past few years. She told him about her friends and the terror she’d felt in the beginning. She told him about Cullen. Elaine left feeling lighter, as if her grief had settled.

 

She slipped in through the gardens and made her way to the guest room. Once at Cullen’s door, she entered silently.

Cullen sat in a large copper tub, head back and eyes closed. Water droplets sat lazily over the crest of his broad shoulders, and steam rose around his head. It looked so good, Elaine almost groaned. Instead, she shut the door and began to pull her boots off.

He made a noise and twisted around, only to shoot her an exasperated look. “You could have said something.”

Elaine grinned. “And spoil the view? Besides -” she shucked her vest off, “- it’s not my fault that your senses have gotten so dim.”

Cullen swallowed, watching her undress with dark eyes. “Funny. Is this - um - alright? Won’t your parents…” he trailed off as she pulled her tunic over her head.

Elaine pushed her trousers down around her ankles, then her smalls. “I don’t care.”  She reached around to undo her breastband and dropped it. Then, she shook her hair out around her shoulders and stepped into the tub. It was deliciously warm. Heat curled up her legs and she sank down with a sigh, stopping when the water crested over her breasts. It was a little cramped, with her legs tangled in his, but somehow she didn’t think that Cullen minded.

Cullen was giving her that look again, like she was made of light. “How was it?” he asked softly.

Elaine nodded. “It was what I needed. It doesn’t fix it but...it helped. A lot. Here, hang on.” She pushed his knees up and slipped her legs into his lap. Once she had the room, she slid under the water. Her hair wet, she came back up. Cullen was watching her, she realized, as his hand played absently on her calf. Following her lead. It was sweet. And he had been so, unfailingly sweet. “I love you,” she murmured, and leaned forward to catch his lips in a kiss. He returned it hungrily, cupping her cheek in his palm. The feel of his warm, solid body against hers stirred heat low in her belly. She groaned and broke the kiss, cheek sliding against his.

“What is it?”

“It’s just -” Elaine pulled back, feeling sheepish and still aroused. “My hair is filthy.”

“You will be the death of me,” Cullen growled, but he was smiling and already reaching for a bottle from the array that had been set out for him.

“I think that’s soap,” she giggled. She plucked it out of his hand and stretched for another one. She unscrewed the top and inhaled. It was earthy, with a hint of spice underneath.

“Is that the correct liquid?” Cullen asked, wry. She nodded, and he took it from her. “Turn around.”

She did, and leaned back against Cullen’s legs. The smell of the shampoo mingled with the rising heat of the bath. He put some in his palms, rubbed it together, and slid his hands through her hair. Tension melted from her limbs, and a sigh floated out unbidden.

“Good?” he asked, voice low.

“The best.”

He washed her hair like that in comfortable silence, blunt nails occasionally dragging along her scalp. When he dipped her back to rinse it, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the mouth. Her whole body ached for him. Elaine twisted up and around, hooking her arm around his neck and straddling his lap. His cock slid between their stomachs and Cullen groaned.

“We need to get out before I can’t stop myself.”

“Why?” Elaine murmured against his mouth. “I like this.”

“We’d have to take another bath, you minx.” He pressed his palm against her sternum. She floated back with a whine, fingers trailing down his arm. He chuckled incredulously. “Incorrigible. Just wait.” Cullen braced himself on the sides of the tub and climbed out, then offered her a hand. She climbed out, squeezing excess water out of her hair before taking the towel he offered her. Elaine met his eyes hotly and began to dry off. Cullen, who was attempting to do the same, eventually slowed and stopped all together as he watched her.

She shrieked, then clapped a hand over her mouth as she was suddenly lifted into the air and carried to the bed.

“I think you want us to get caught,” Cullen growled, and leaned down to claim her mouth. She met him eagerly, wrapping her legs around his waist. They kissed, languid and filthy. His cock slid against her slick folds and she gasped. He nipped at her jaw and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I need you,” he breathed. “I’ve been thinking about this for days. It’s been inappropriate timing, but I -”

“Cullen!” Elaine reached down and wrapped a hand around his cock. His amber eyes flew to her blue ones in surprise. She stroked once, and positioned him at her entrance. “Please, please fuck me.” He huffed a laugh, then slowly sank inside. Elaine threw an arm across her face to muffle her moan, body thrumming with pleasure.

Cullen rolled his hips and began thrust. Elaine grit her teeth the keep from crying out, then pushed his mouth messily on hers. If it counted as kissing it was a bare form - her teeth grazed his chin at one point - and he mouthed her name over and over to her like a prayer. When she was close, her grip tightened around his neck and he reached between them to rub her clit. The extra stimulation sent her over the edge, and Elaine turned to bury her face in the pillow when she shouted. She clenched around him, and he groaned, muffled, into the column of her throat. They stayed like that for a few moments, panting, before Cullen pulled out and collapsed at her side.

“I suppose,” he said after a moment, “We should go to dinner now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess it's obvious by now that this is not a very action heavy story. i promise things are about to speed up a little, however!
> 
> thank you for your kudos, it's so appreciated that you took the time to read AND tell me that you enjoyed it. :) 
> 
> if you want, i have a dragon age tumblr at elainetrevelyan.tumblr.com.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elaine gets a surprise, and no one is very happy about it.

One benefit of living in the Circle was that there had been no constricting dresses. Elaine had gotten used to dressing herself in armor and robes, and the bland, polite smile of the serving girl doing the many small buttons on the back of her dress was unnerving.

She’d snuck back to her room after the moment with Cullen. After swirling around the bathwater for a few minutes, feeling guilty that a tub had been filled for nothing, she’d found the dress on her bed. Almost instantly, the serving girl appeared at the door. She looked as if she had some idea what Elaine had been up to, but if Elaine knew enough about her parents to be certain she wouldn’t find them gossipping with the servants.

The dress was silky, so blue it was almost black, with a conservative neckline but an impossibly tight waist. The sleeves went all the way down her arms, covering, she noticed, the anchor. It shimmered when she moved, flowing fetchingly around her like a piece of the sea. It was beautiful, painful, and completely impractical. The serving girl silently did her hair in an elaborate braid, and made her face with the little pots of makeup and brushes that had been set in front of the mirror. When she was finished, the girl bowed low and murmured, “My lady,” exiting the room.

Gazing at her reflection, Elaine realized she was seeing the Trevelyan daughter of another life. She looked wonderful. Her eyes shone, impossibly blue. Her lips were glossed and cheekbones highlighted - and she was entranced by the sight but felt terribly overdone. However, she reasoned, she hadn't been part of Free Marcher society for many years. Maybe this was normal. 

There was a light rap on the door. Elaine sighed and, slipping her shoes on, went to it.

“You look divine,” Dorian said, eying her. He was dressed in an elaborate looking tunic with one shoulder bared. On that arm, he wore a black mourning band. He proffered his elbow, and she took it. “You should ride into battle this way.”

“You’re joking,” she snorted. “I’d crack a rib before I could kill a single demon.” Elaine shifted her weight as they walked, trying to get a deeper breath. It didn’t work. “You know, this is my first family dinner in twelve years.”

Dorian sighed. “I miss dinners at home. No one’s told me lately what a disappointment I am.”

“I learned that on my own, when my mother shuffled me out after visits as soon as she could see the Templars down the road.” She kissed him on the cheek. “What a pair we are.”

The dining room, announced by elaborately carved wooden doors, was opened by two blank faced serving men. Elaine realized two things as they crossed the threshold. One, they were the last to arrive, and two, she and her party were not the only guests. This was the seating arrangement down the long table - her father at the head, and down his left was Vanessa, Gemma, and Cullen. On his right was her mother, an empty space for her, and a man she did not recognize.

He had the ruggedly handsome features of a storybook hero; deep green eyes that sparkled at her, and dark hair that fell in perfect waves across his forehead. He was well-built, but not too broad. He had a grace of movement and, she realized, was looking at her. Not as most men looked at women they didn’t know. It felt more personal. As if he had been waiting for this moment, and it had been worth every second of waiting.

Every eye in the room was on her. Dorian had, at some point, slipped away, and left her standing in the doorway like a fool. The man rose, and took her hand.

“Lady Herald, I am James Lethlean of Wilingham. It is a true honor to meet you. Maker knows what state Thedas would be in without your Inquisition.” His voice was rich and low. Fereldan, but a distinctly wealthy accent. Suddenly, like backlash from an electricity spell, she understood what was going on. The dress, the makeup, and the secrecy.

Elaine shot a horrified look at her mother, who beamed at James.

“You do yourself too little credit. Your father says you saved your village from a horde of demons.”

“With the help of my men, Lady Trevelyan.” He smiled and turned back to Elaine. “And it was nothing compared to what you have done for all of us. And may I say, you have my most sincere condolences. Your brother was a fine man.” James kissed her hand, and Elaine almost choked.

“Ah, thank you, Lord Lethlean.” She smiled awkwardly and went to take her seat, but he had already pulled it out for her. She sank down slowly, and sent a baffled look across the table to Cullen.

His face was stormy. gaze directed at their unexpected company. When he felt her looking at him, however, he gave a obviously pained smile. Elaine felt her heartbeat quicken with anxiety. This was not how she imagined this would go at all. Her fear of being married off had passed with her Harrowing. It was always clear they didn’t need her. The Trevelyans were well-off, well-connected, and well-liked. It didn’t make any sense.

“James was passing through Ostwick on business, and I thought he would be a wonderful addition to our table. He and your brother were dear friends,” Catherine touched her hand to her breastbone, “and I’m sure he has some lovely memories to share.”

“I will do my best, my Lady.”

“How did you meet Alec?” Elaine asked.

James’ face grew wistful. “We met on business in Ferelden, and discovered that we like to occupy our time in similar ways. We spent time together, traveled together...and soon he invited me to meet your charming family and his beautiful wife.” He smiled at Gemma.

“He so cared for you,” she murmured, so soft Elaine could barely hear her.

“James,” Marcus said, speaking for the first time. “Why don’t you lead us in prayer before we eat.”

-

Her mother’s plan grew clearer as dinner continued. Elaine was trapped between them. Her mother occupied the others in conversation so she could only turn to James, and when there was a lull in conversation Catherine managed to engage them in a question concerning only the two of them. As annoyed as she was with the entire situation, there were worse people to be stuck speaking to. James was witty and kind. He had her laughing at a story about Alec one moment, and almost in happy tears the next. On those rare moments where they were allowed to be engaged with the rest of the table, he even had her father smiling.

As for Cullen, the wide table between them might as well have been an ocean.

He barely met her eyes as the night went on, and inside Elaine was roiling with frustration. The moment they’d shared earlier - so tender and intimate, and she always felt with him, was far away. She was angry at Cullen for being so distant, and bewildered by his behavior; she’d never seen him act like a jealous schoolboy. He spoke rarely during dinner, and when asked a question he was as stilted and awkward as he’d ever been around nobility. Elaine watched as her family quickly lost what little interest they may have had in him. Even Dorian, as quick witted and perceptive as he was, could not help. As James grew more charming, Cullen waned.

“How about a tea service,” Catherine exclaimed when their final plates had been taken away.

“I would love to, but I’m afraid I have early voyage back home tomorrow.” James stood, and the rest of them did as well. He bowed low to Elaine’s parents, the other side of the table, and lastly to Elaine. Then, he took her hand and pressed his lips to it. He lingered this time, longer than even she knew was appropriate, and looked up at her through his dark lashes. “I hope we will see more of each other, Lady Elaine.” He said it with the assurance of someone who had been told as much.

Elaine, suddenly, felt spent. She forced herself to smile. “It has been a pleasure.”

Once he had left, Catherine clapped her hands together. “What a shame he couldn’t stay. We’ll have to have him again very soon.” She looked at a serving girl in the corner. “I would still like the tea, however.”

“No.” Elaine found herself speaking. She swallowed, and looked them in the eye. “We need to speak in private.”

-

“How _awkward_ ,” Dorian said. “I can’t say, however, that my parents have never sprung a surprise guest on me that way. They were getting rather desperate towards the end.” He glanced at Cullen when the other man didn’t answer. “Please, do my ego some good and pretend you find me funny. Ah - on second thought, that would probably be painful for the both of us.”

“She was just so natural with him,” Cullen said distantly. “So happy.”

“She was hearing nice things about her dead brother. It was practically a wake.”

“They just fit. And her family -”

“Cullen.” Dorian rounded on him, and grabbed the man by the shoulders. Cullen started. “You can’t possibly think, that after all you’ve been through together, she would leave you for a man she met today. To what, live in a drafty castle in the wilderness? _She already does! With you!_ What’s that quaint southern thing you’re always saying?” Cullen opened his mouth, but Dorian held up a finger. “Ah. Maker’s breath! So her family doesn’t like you. So what? Think of it as your next battle. Devote yourself to it after you marry her. But, my word, don’t be an idiot.” He punctuated each of those last words with a jab to Cullen’s chest.

“You’re right,” Cullen sighed. The whispers of inadequacy in his head, the doubt - it was just another demon to be beaten away. He had let it fool him. “I am an idiot.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “If we agree on that, I’d like to find alcohol now."

-

“Obviously,” Catherine said, “we can’t force you marry anyone.”

“However, I hope you can see how this would benefit everyone involved.” Marcus leaned forward, hands clasped.Elaine felt vaguely ill. It was one thing to have her suspicions, but to hear them so openly confirmed was upsetting. She hadn’t felt this powerless in a long time.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?”

“My dear,” Catherine patted her shoulder. “I wanted you to meet him first, without any thoughts of marriage floating around your pretty head. We had planned to speak to you about it tomorrow. You’ve come such a long way.”

“Yes, to mourn my brother, not meet potential suitors!” Elaine dragged a hand down her face. “I just - of all the things. And you had me done up like this, to be paraded -”

“Stop.” Marcus thundered, and the words died in Elaine’s throat. “The Trevelyans are in a precarious position at the moment. My heir, my _son_ , has died. Alec’s son is only an infant. We will lose the bannorn if we do not show our strength.”

“How would my marriage help with that? Couldn’t the Inquisition just make a show of support?”

“We will not be around forever, Elaine. You are the only one in a strong enough position to hold the title of bann and keep it, even in name.”

“Wait.” Elaine frowned. “I’m not in any position. I am a Trevelyan, but my titles were revoked when I was sent to the Circle. That’s what happened to all mage children.”

Marcus and Catherine exchanged a look. “We have spoken to some of our allies in the Chantry,” Marcus said. “With the current state of things, we believe we can have your titles reinstated. This would strengthen your Inquisition and give you claim to our land. However, in order for that to happen, you must marry.”

Silence fell as Elaine absorbed this information. Her parents watched her with - she couldn’t quite parse their expressions - a curious kind of hope? Her stomach lurched. Somehow, the news that she held her family’s future in her hands felt more awful than having Thedas’. She wasn’t beholden to them at all, but why did she prickle with guilt? Why was she thinking about Alec’s child?

She stood abruptly, chair scraping across the floor. “We can speak in the morning. I - I’m exhausted.”

“Of course you are!” Catherine rose and clasped her daughter’s hand. “This wasn’t supposed to be sprung on you all at once. We will talk about it more when you’ve rested.”

Elaine nodded numbly.

She passed Cullen’s room, and stopped when she heard raucous laughter inside. Quietly, she opened the door, and found Cullen on the floor and Dorian sitting (a generous description) in a chair. The air was heady with alcohol.

“Elaine!” Cullen cried when he saw her. He tried to sit up, failed, but was successful on the second attempt. Swaying, he took her by the shoulders. She stared into his eyes and felt terribly guilty for something she hadn’t done yet. A sloppy grin spread across his face. “You look so beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But you’re always beautiful.” He crushed her in a hug, pressing his hot mouth against her neck. Elaine looked at Dorian over his shoulder, who shrugged.

“Oh - Cullen - “ Elaine managed to push him off. Cullen tipped back on his feet, looking like a hurt puppy. She took his face in his hands. “It’s this dress,” she said, in the most soothing tone she could manage. “It’s very tight.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back, reassured. “It seems like you’ve been having fun in here.”

“I could ruin his reputation, you know,” Dorian hummed. He was in considerably better shape than Cullen. “I’m sure many people would be thrilled to know our Commander is such a lightweight. First in line, Varric-”

“You will not tell Varric a _thing_!” Cullen pointed at him.  Dorian raised an eyebrow, but played along and raised his hands. “He asked some very...very personal questions.” He turned to Elaine and whispered, or what he thought was a whisper, “I think he’s writing a book about me!”

Despite herself, Elaine giggled. She had come in here to talk about her parents’ proposal and hash out his behavior, but it was difficult to stay upset when he was like this in front of her. Pink-cheeked and loose, tunic undone several buttons and hair mussed.

“I think it’s time I take my leave.” Dorian picked up the bottle of alcohol and a glass. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” He winked. “For a little while, at least.”

Once the other man had left, Elaine led Cullen to the bed and loosened his boots. He kicked them off and smiled sleepily. “Will you be alright?” Elaine asked, smiling.

“Will you stay with me?” Cullen tugged at her hand.

“Can you undo these buttons?"

He stared at her back with the intensity he brought to military operations. Elaine chuckled. “Hmm, I didn’t think so. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” She leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, but he moved at the same time and they bumped noses.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered, and with a hand around her head, kissed her on the mouth. As kisses went, what it lacked in control it made up for in passion. She hummed into his mouth before pulling back and pushing him gently against the bed. They stared at each other for a moment, some unspoken feeling passing between them, and Elaine squeezed his hand.

“Good night, Cullen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out, it's a lot easier to fight demons than talk to your parents. especially if your parents are dicks.
> 
> you can find me at elainetrevelyan.tumblr.com!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little worse.

The next few days passed in a series of hazy half conversations, and Elaine recalled why she had surprised her family so much by showing magic. Uncomfortable things were simply not spoken of. Something as shocking as a mage child? Of course she had been tucked away in the circle as quickly as possible. They’d had no idea how to react.

Despite Catherine’s earlier promise, they spoke no more of marriage plans or inheritance. Elaine was rarely alone with either of her parents, and the only time they were in the same room together was at dinner. Days were filled with shared memories of Alec over tea and small cakes. Elaine was forced to sit with ancient, visiting friends of the family who claimed to be well-wishers but had more likely heard that they could have their hand patted by the Herald of Andraste. After paying his respects, Dorian begged off of teary anecdotes by claiming friends in the city to visit. Elaine didn’t blame him. Cullen somehow produced a stack of paperwork to do, and Elaine was so drained by the time night came that she slept in her own bed. Also, she didn’t want to tell him that she hadn’t yet informed her parents about their relationship.

She was going to tell them, but it required a lot of emotional preparation. Elaine could weather it, however, and she and her parents would go on living their lives separately. Marcus would figure out the bannorn’s future without her. The more she thought about it, she decided she was not as desperately needed as they’d made out. They liked things to be complete, rounded off. Now that she was more than a circle mage, of course they would try to slot her piece back into place.

She would refuse marriage as quietly as possible, and go back home to Skyhold. Except Elaine found this resolution still bouncing around her head on the morning of her departure. She laced up her riding boots and felt, as she often had these past few days, guilty. Rain fell hard on the roof, and she almost didn’t hear the knock on her door. It was too light to be Cullen or Dorian, and she guessed who it was before her mother’s soft voice traveled into the room. “I thought we should chat,” Catherine said, looking as though she was mildly offended such a thing had come out of her own mouth.

Elaine swallowed. “Of course.” She was intensely aware of every second it took for Catherine to walk over and sit beside her on the bed. Silence stretched and filled between them, so quiet in her borrowed room that Elaine could hear herself buzzing. It happened sometimes, when she was nervous or excited - too much extra energy thrumming beneath her skin, begging to be let out. She closed her eyes and willed it to fade. It never left her completely, however. That was the catch with magic.

When she opened her eyes, she realized that Catherine was staring at her marked hand. “Does it hurt?” her mother asked, without her characteristic affectation.

Elaine blinked. “Well...no. Not anymore.”

“I’m glad.” Catherine looked at it for a few seconds longer, then her eyes drifted towards Elaine’s face. “You are extraordinary, you know. The things you’ve done -” she shook her head. “I want you to know that your father and I are sorry. For so much. And I think we all understand there are parts we can never make up for.”

Elaine didn’t trust herself to speak. The lump in her throat was incapacitating.

“We want you to have a good life, where you can continue to do these things. But this world has realities that are impossible to ignore.”

And they had looped back around. Elaine knew what was coming next, and in a flash of courage, she cleared her throat and clenched her fingers into the bedspread.

“I’m with Cullen, mother.”

Catherine sighed. “I know.”

“You - you what?”

“We don’t know each other well, dear, but I’m not an idiot.”

“But then why would you try to to set me up with someone else?”

“I-” Catherine paused. “Elaine.” There were multitudes contained in that single expression of her name. “You can’t be serious.” There was no joking tilt to the words, no verbal wink that accompanied everything Catherine usually said. Elaine looked into her mother’s eyes, and seeing the most honesty her mother had ever given her, faltered. Catherine placed a hand over Elaine’s and squeezed. “I have nothing to say about your choices. Maker knows I had a...wild period, before I married your father. But that is not a relationship to pin your future to.”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I have no problem with Commander Cullen. If he had any hand in keeping you alive in this terrible business, I sincerely thank him. But it’s obvious that he hates this. Do you think he’ll want to stay in that castle for much longer? That he’ll guide you through dinners and balls? You’re a smart girl, Elaine. You know what he wants.” She shrugged. “Children. A farm in backwoods Fereldan.” Elaine felt indignation rise in her throat like bile.

“You don’t know him, Mother. That’s unfair.”

Catherine laughed. It was cold and mirthless. “Please, Elaine. There are only so many kinds of men in this world. He’ll fill you with children over and over, like a broodmare. And one day you’ll look in the mirror and realize you’re aged and weary and your husband is warming his bed with a tavern girl. ” She lifted Elaine’s marked hand. Her soft touch was so at odds with the harshness of her words. “You were never meant for that life. This tells me so.”

Once, Elaine had the wind knocked out of her by a despair demon. All she could do was choke as its nightmarish face peered over her, teeth clacking and foul, chilled breath on her face like a caress. It opened its mouth, and for the longest second of her life, Elaine thought she was done for. She was saved by Dorian blasting a fireball through the thing’s chest. That experience was preferable to this one.

She jerked her hand away and stood up, shaking with anger and some terrible, unknowable feeling. Perhaps the small part of her that wondered, even as she raged against it, if what Catherine said was true.

“Please leave,” Elaine said, a hundred unkinder words begging to be let out.

“Just think about it,” Catherine said gently. She seemed to understand that she had overstepped. “Love is not something to stake your future on, but a partnership - well, James can give you that.”

Elaine waited until she left, then slammed her fist against the door. Angry ice fissures crackled out, and she jerked her hand away before she damaged her skin. As much as she wanted to brush them off, something in her mother’s words had shaken her. Was she forcing Cullen into a life that he didn’t want? The man she loved and shared a bed with was so different than the one she’d seen during this trip, clumsily interacting with people and obviously hating every moment of it. The time for backing out of her obligations had long since passed, but he no such reason to stay. She saw how Cullen carried his battles with him. They were in his eyes and the weary slope of his shoulders after a long day. The frantic, fervent muttering during his nightmares. Didn’t he deserve some peace?

The answer to that question was obvious. It wracked her during their journey home. Cullen didn’t notice, just seeming glad that they could be close again. When Skyhold came into view, gleaming in the sunshine, Elaine was filled with a sick sense of dread. She swallowed it down and put on her best Inquisitor face. At least her overwhelming public persona was good for something.

Leliana and Josephine waited for them on the stairs. “Welcome back!” Josephine cried, immediately blushing. “Apologies. It is just...gratifying to have you here again.”

“I see the castle didn’t burn down without me,” Elaine said wryly, sliding off her horse. Josephine made a face. Elaine laughed, and climbing the stairs, kissed her on the cheek. “Apologies,” she echoed. “I’m glad to be back.”

“I will be sleeping for three days straight,” Dorian announced as he brushed past them. “Please, don’t bother me unless another world-ending crisis begins.”

“I have to say,” Cullen came up beside her. Elaine felt her heart quicken in her throat. “I rather agree. I know there is much to be done, ladies, but it has been a hard journey.”

Leliana and Josephine exchanged a look that Elaine couldn’t puzzle out. It was confused, a little grim - but it was over quickly and she jerked back to attention when Leliana turned her piercing gaze to them. “Very well. Four hours, and then we meet in the war room.”

As they headed into the castle, Cullen tugged Elaine’s hand so they fell a few paces behind. “How about a bath, hmm?” he hummed in her ear. “You have that enormous tub, and it would be a shame to waste it.”

Elaine turned to face him as his arms circled her. “I’m so tired,” she begged. That intimacy - she didn’t deserve it. She ached to tell him about her conversation with her mother, but she was, in truth, afraid. The more she thought about it, Elaine could imagine him leaving her. It would be painful, but what was best for him, he’d say. She was afraid that he would leave her, but her guilt now paralyzed her when she was with him.

Cullen studied her face. She did her best to smile, taken in by the flowing warmth of his affection for her. Cullen smiled back and leaned in, kissing her gently on the forehead. “Alright. We wash off the road, and then we sleep.”

-

Cullen was chased out of sleep by a figure that slipped away as soon as he tried to recall it. Breathing hard, he turned his head to look at Elaine and ground himself. He took in her golden hair, fanned across the pillow. The way her face had gone slack and young with sleep. She carried herself with such power and confidence as Inquisitor. There was never reason to doubt her because she wouldn’t let you. So many people depended on her. It was easy to forget that she had spent little time out in the world before the breach.

Cullen resolved to let her sleep a bit longer. Maybe he could wheedle another hour out of the other council members.

As he dressed, he reflected on their trip. He was lucky she still let him in her room, after he had been so foolish. To be worried about her mother’s matchmaking attempts, if that was what they wear, while she was there to mourn her brother? He had seen many things in his life, but sometimes Cullen felt no different than the bumbling teenage boy he’d been before the horrors of Kinloch.

He would be there for her, he resolved, as long as she needed him. He would not let his own demons stand in the way.

Cullen left, closing the door quietly behind him. About to enter the hall, he stopped when he heard hurried, low voices on the other side. After a moment, they were distinguishable as Leliana and Josephine.

“-in there,” Leliana was saying, “And confront her like a jilted lover? Really, Josie.”

“I just don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell us! This is important news, don’t you think?” Josephine’s pitch rose with each word. Leliana said something too low to hear, and Josephine sighed. Cullen knew he should step away. He was commander of the Inquisition, not a gossipy schoolchild. If Elaine had something to tell him, she would do it on her own time. It was not for him to find out this way.

He didn’t move.

“Maybe you’re right.” Josephine said. “It would be strange for her to keep something like this from us, but even more from him.”

“Cullen would not have looked so content if she were marrying someone else.”

He couldn’t breathe. He leaned dizzily against the door, and there must have been noise, because the door was wrenched open so quickly that he almost fell down.

Leliana hissed something in Orlesian, and Josephine looked horrified. Cullen tried to speak, and had to swallow several times before he could make his throat work. “Marriage?” was all he got out.

Leliana looked around the hall. A group of nobles was glancing curiously at them, and Varric was entertaining a big group at a table not far off. She crowded them into Josephine’s office. Once the door was closed, she gestured to a chair. “Please sit.”

“Leliana, I want -”

“Sit.” Cullen sat. Leliana sighed and exchanged a look with Josephine. There seemed to be an unspoken conversation going on between them, to the point where Cullen was about to interject. Or be ill on Josephine’s floor.

“We received a report,” Josephine began, “from one of Leliana’s people in Val Royeaux. Are you familiar with Bann Lethlean of Fereldan?”

Cullen’s blood ran cold. James Lethlean, the bann’s son, had been the unexpected guest at Ostwick. He nodded jerkily.

“His youngest son, Connor, has been overheard saying some things.” She paused. “Most significantly, that his older brother James is engaged to the Inquisitor.”

She stared at him, waiting for an explosion. A shout. Instead, Cullen stared at the floor for a few excruciating moments before shaking his head. “You must be mistaken,” he said flatly. He had already been through this, he decided. He loved and trusted her and it wasn't true. Couldn't be true. 

:Cullen-”

“No.” He stood up. “Ladies, I apologize. But your report is incorrect.” He was going to leave, go anywhere else, but the door opened and Elaine came in.

“What report?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips. Dressed in a simple shift, hair sleep-tossed around her shoulders, she was so beautiful it made him ache. No one spoke for a long moment, and her smile faded when she saw his face. Cullen realized he’d been clenching his fists so hard there were crescent shaped welts in his palms.

“We lost a patrol,” he said quickly. “In the Frostbacks.” It was a little sickening, how quickly the lie came. He waited for Josephine or Leliana to dispute him, but neither did.

“Oh, Cullen. I’m sorry.” She hugged him, and he buried his face in her soft hair. There was no way. She would have told him. Of course she would have told him.

“Let’s get started, shall way?” Leliana’s voice cut through his thoughts. Cullen straightened, and as he walked with Elaine towards the war room, tried one again to banish the terrible things preying on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh guys, i'm so sorry for the delay! i was really struggling with this chapter, and then i went on a trip...but here it is! thank you so much for your kudos and comments, they mean the world to me. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are made.

Certain perks came with being the savior of Thedas, like the fact that Elaine could have a large amount of alcohol brought to her room and be left alone for the night. The consequence was that she was now sitting on the floor, close to tears for a stunning amalgam of reasons. And she smelled like a distillery.

To put it lightly, things were not going well. She was recently returned from a disastrous trip to the Hissing Wastes, where she’d almost gotten her companions killed. Cassandra had a broken arm, and Dorian had luckily made it to a healer before a nasty burn became a permanent scar. They were angry with her, and had every right to be. She was paralyzed by indecision.

The letters from her parents came in increasing number. They sat unopened on the desk, her family’s seal gleaming in silent accusation. According to Josephine, the erratic wind of public opinion was on the verge of changing once again. Certain nobles were questioning her background in dark corners of private parties. Wondering about her loyalty, as she had no direct ties to Orlais or Ferelden. The diplomat was more nervous than Elaine had ever seen her, even before Halamshiral.

Life felt tremulous and thin, as if she were standing on a frozen lake and watching it splinter beneath her. Cullen was nervous and distant behind the eyes, her friends were busy, and nations were looking to the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor stood alone, a bitter wind at her heels.

Well. Getting drunk was always the quickest road to feeling sorry for herself. Elaine sniffled rather miserably and hauled herself off the floor. The room swayed like a ship in a storm. She gripped the back of a chair, white-knuckled, and tried to breathe herself into stability. It was an old Circle trick, a simple method taught to young mages who panicked when they couldn’t grasp the flowing river of magic that hummed through their veins. She felt somewhat stable after a few moments and began to trudge towards her bed.

Someone knocked on the door. “Maker, no,” Elaine groaned to herself. Raising her voice, she called, “Come back tomorrow, thanks!”

It opened anyway. Maybe it was an assassin, she thought, come to put her out of her misery. Wouldn’t that just be too easy.

“Sorry, Goldie. Seeker’s orders.” Varric crossed the threshold with a wink. “Had to make sure you were still alive and kicking in here.”

Elaine blinked owlishly. “ _Goldie_.”

“I’m trying it out.” The dwarf looked over the several empty bottles on the floor, and then at Elaine, who was a torturously short distance away from her bed. “I see you’re doing great."

“I was having a night to myself.” Elaine swayed dangerously, eyes closed against a bout of nausea. Varric chuckled, and the next thing she knew, he was walking her over to her desk chair.

“There you go.” She watched him cross the room to pour her a glass of water, and drank it greedily when he came back. When she had drained it, she set it down and slowly met his eyes.

“Varric, you should be furious with me. I almost got us killed.”

He shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. Hawke did that a lot. I just want to know what’s going on. Call it...a writer’s curiosity.” Varric drew himself up with the air that, most of the time, meant he was about to tell a story. “We have two attractive blonde people who are head over heels for each other. True love. The whole deal. It’s a little disgusting, actually.” Elaine flushed and looked away. “Both of them should have died many times. Especially the lady. But no, love conquers all. Everyone knows they have a bright future with lots of fair haired babies. I’ve already secured the rights. However-”

“Varric,” Elaine screwed her eyes shut. Her head was swimming. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Just hear me out, Goldie. However, one day they go to visit her parents. And when they come back, they’re acting like lunatic teenagers who’ve never been around the opposite sex for more than five minutes. So what’s going on?”

To her eternal embarrassment, Elaine burst into tears.

It was not the reaction Varric was expecting, but to his credit, he took it in stride. “Maker’s tits, please don’t tell Cassandra that I made you cry.”

“I’m sorry,” Elaine sobbed. “I’ve just been so stupid!” She just wanted Cullen. She wanted him to hold her again and stroke her hair like he was touching something precious, something loved, but just her. Not the Herald or the Inquisitor, but Elaine Trevelyan. Who was a fucking idiot. She told Varric all of this and more, less coherent and sometimes talking herself into a circle that he had to lead her back out of. She told him about her parents and what they were asking of her. She told him about what her mother had said. She told him everything, and when she was finished, the dwarf threw his head back and laughed.

“Excuse me,” said Elaine, who was a little more sober now but bubbling over with raw emotion.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Varric held his hands up. “It’s just...I keep finding myself around people who are really sharp about life and dull as a rock about each other. He’s crazy for you, Goldie. Absolutely crazy, I promise. None of this other stuff matters. I don’t know how to make you see that. Maybe you missed it because it’s so obvious?”

She laughed, a wet little hiccup.

“For all our sakes, will you please just talk to him? I can’t play relationship guide much longer, and no one else in this castle is up for the job.”

-

This was a mistake.

Elaine watched, partially hidden in the dark while Cullen talked to a pretty girl outside of the tavern. Bridget, the girl’s name was. Or Mary. She was a Hinterlands refugee, a little younger than Elaine. Bridget/Mary had dark hair that hung in a rope down her back, and slender wrists that gleamed as she gestured animatedly and spoke to him. Cullen listened with a smile playing on his lips, and at one point he laughed and put his hand behind his head in a gesture that Elaine was achingly familiar with.

Her mother’s words echoed in her head, louder than Varric’s. A pretty Ferelden girl. Someone who would make him happy and give him the life he wanted.

Elaine doubled over in the bushes and vomited.

She may have had a shot of whatever was in the flask on Varric’s belt before she left. For courage.

“Elaine?” Cullen called, concerned and deeply confused.

“Should I get a healer?” Bridget/Mary trilled. Cullen murmured something in return. Elaine closed her eyes and retched again, wishing that she had the magic to blink herself out of existence.

There were a few clanking footfalls, and Cullen bent down beside her. Despite everything, Elaine felt some of the tension melt away when his hand pressed at her back.

“Elaine, are you alright? What are you doing over here?”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned forward on her hands. She wasn’t ready to stand up just yet. “Coming to see you,” she mumbled. “I missed you.”

“After you’d had a bit to drink, I see.” he said, but his voice was warm and affectionate. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

He gripped her by the waist and slowly, they rose together so she was encircled in his arms. Elaine knew she was a sight. Disastrous hair, blotchy face, and any errant spark of magic and she’d probably burst into flames. Yet Cullen looked at her as if she was made of sun and starstuff.

He paused when their eyes met, and something settled in him. “I missed you too,” he said softly.

Elaine didn’t remember much after that. They went to Cullen’s room, as it was less conspicuous. She somehow made it up the ladder and promptly passed out on Cullen’s bed.

When she woke up, she was jacket and boot-less, buried in blankets. She rolled over and was sick again in the bucket that had been helpfully placed near the bed, and slept for a few more hours. When Elaine woke up the second time, she felt a little less awful and clear headed enough to be mortified.

Cullen, who was perched on the bed with several sheets of parchment strewn across his lap, laughed when she turned over and groaned. “Good morning, darling.” Elaine made a rude gesture without even thinking. Cullen grinned and snatched her hand into his own, as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them. “How are you feeling?”

“Like an utter arsehole, to borrow an expression from someone. If only my mother could see me now.”

“I think you look wonderful.”

“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told!”

“No, I mean it.” Cullen set the papers down and turned so he was bending over her. Her breath caught in her throat. Emotions flickered across his face, each gone before she could place it, but under his affection he seemed to be pleading for something. And Elaine wondered if he knew. If he’d known this whole time. What he even thought of her. He cupped her cheek and bent down even further. She thought he was going to kiss her, but his cheek only brushed against hers. He sighed deeply, as if breathing her in.

“Cullen…” she whispered, and there were so many things she wanted to say. But he dragged his stubble across her cheek and actually kissed her. They hadn’t been so affectionate in a while, and Elaine was caught up in the heat of him for a moment before she gently pushed him off. “I’m revolting right now, really, you don’t want…”

He met her gaze again, but this time he looked hungry. She shivered with unexpected arousal. “Alright, then. We don’t have to kiss.”

Quick as a cat, Cullen cast the blankets aside and tugged her towards him by the legs. Then, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her pants. Elaine gasped at the cool press of his knuckles against his bare skin. More slowly now, he slid an arm up her thigh and hooked it over his shoulder. “Do you want this?” he asked, dragging his fingers up her stomach.

Elaine bit her lip and nodded. Cullen pressed a kiss to her abdomen. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “I want this. I want you.”

He peeled her pants and smalls away and, without warning, laved his tongue over her clit. She moaned and threw an arm over her face, but Cullen pushed it away.

“Let me look at you.”

Slowly, Elaine met his dark, piercing eyes. He smirked and resumed his work, teasing and licking softly until she was shaking from the stimulation. Keeping eye contact made it even hotter. “Cullen, I’m close,” she groaned, carding a hand through his hair. She could feel his chuckle against her.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and began to suck. Elaine cried out, back arching against the bed as she came. Magic crackled out in tiny bursts, and for a moment the air had the sweet sharpness of a spell. Cullen rubbed her through her orgasm until she collapsed, spent, on the bed.

“You’re extraordinary,” he murmured as he leaned up to kiss her. She could taste herself on his mouth, which was more attractive than it should have been.

“I don’t know,” Elaine drawled lazily, pulling him close. “I’m starting to think you missed your calling.” Cullen settled beside her with a smirk, and she tugged the blanket back up, then slotted her arm around his waist. They breathed together for a while, which Elaine had dearly missed. “I love you, you know,” she mumbled against his neck.

“I love you too, Elaine. Always.”

-

_Mother and Father,_

_I deeply regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your proposition. Please inform Bann Lethlean and his son of this as well. Due to my responsibilities as Inquisitor, I would be an unfit heir for Ostwick and unsatisfactory as the wife that Lord Lethlean requires._

_I have lived most of my life without my titles. I have no desire to change that now._

_I give you my best,_

_Elaine Cordelia Trevelyan_

_Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor_

-

Elaine felt a weight lift from her shoulders once she had handed the letter off to be sent. Things would still be difficult, of course, but even her parents could not force her into something. If they wished, she would help them plan the future of the bannorn, but she could not be a part of it in the way they wanted. That time had passed

Now, she had to focus on the task at hand; convincing the people once again that she was a worthy champion of their cause. The idea that she needed a husband to do that was insulting, to put it lightly. The Inquisition had to refocus. Calm and fiercely dedicated to the cause, they were unstoppable.

She rapped smartly on Josephine’s door and pushed it open. The diplomat was surrounded by several messengers and attendants, all of whom she was giving complicated orders to. Elaine stood patiently, and eventually Josephine’s eyes fell on her.

“Inquisitor!” she cried, and shooed the others away. There was a frantic, nervous energy about her. Elaine, knowing she was the cause of some of that anxiety, felt a stab of guilt. She wondered if she should call for some tea, or cajole Josie into going for a walk. “What can I do for you?

Elaine studied her face. She wasn’t sure how much Josephine knew, but it was better to try and alleviate some of her stress than do nothing. “Well, I just wanted to tell you something. In case you’ve heard...something.” She grimaced.

“What is it?”

“I...am not going to be married. I have not made any plans to be married. I am not...engaged, in any way. In case you’ve heard otherwise.

Josephine’s mouth snapped shut, and for a moment Elaine thought she’d made a mistake. But then, a radiant smile spread across her face. It was as if Elaine had told her the best news of her life. “That is good to hear, Inquisitor. Very good to hear.”

Elaine couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m glad. Besides, I certainly couldn’t plan a wedding without your help."

-

_Dearest Daughter,_

_I understand your personal position. However, I am not so far removed from the political climate of Thedas that I don’t know the precarious place your Inquisition finds itself in. As a leader of such magnitude, you cannot afford to put your feelings above your station. I know you were thrust into this role, and that is the best advice I can give you as someone who has been leading for many years. You have become something larger than yourself. Imagine what would happen to the people you’ve helped if your allies turned against you._

_You are a smart girl. You know the only way to stabilize your position is to make them respect you. Create ties in Ferelden and they cannot ignore them. Reclaim the nobility you were meant for and Orlais will stop its whispering._

_I will give you a final chance to reconsider. Think of the legacy you can leave for our family and your people. Do not throw this away over a schoolgirl’s fancy._

_Bann Marcus Trevelyan of Ostwick_

-

Cullen was overseeing recruits, the number of which had not shown signs of stopping despite the recent whisperings about the Inquisition. He wasn't worried. He'd seen enough political turmoil that this upheaval seemed minor. They would weather it. Elaine had been through far worse.

After a council meeting, Josephine had taken him aside and told him that there were no marriage plans. He felt foolish for ever thinking otherwise.

Out of all his duties, he liked overseeing the new recruits the most. He had little time for it lately, but without the looming threat of Corypheus there was a much more cheerful air about the grounds. The people were hopeful about their lives. It made Cullen proud that they had given so many victims of devastation another chance.

"Put your back in it," he shouted towards the sparring ring. "Come on, McDuff, plant your feet!"

A gentle hand trailed across his back. "I love it when give orders," Elaine murmured in his ear. He turned and caught her by the waist, leaving her boneless and giggling in his arms.

"Someone has to. Our leader is a terrible minx."

"Well. This minx would like to see you in her quarters." Elaine drew him in for a heated kiss. There were several cheers and hoots from the recruits. Cullen kissed her deeply and made a gesture towards the men and women that was rather unbecoming of his station.

"As my lady wishes." Maker, she was a sight to behold. Fine boned and golden haired, radiating more happiness than she had in weeks. He would propose to her, he thought, watching her shine in the sun. It had to be the right time, however, and they couldn’t get away so soon after their long trip to the Marches. He would bring her home to meet his family. They could go back to the lake.

"Good.” Elaine leaned up and kissed him again, on the cheek. She drew back, eyes sparkling. “I have to go see Cassandra first, but I’ll expect to find you waiting, serrah.”

Cullen watched her go, her hips swinging. Then, he paused. “Is there a reason I don’t hear any sparring?”

-

She was not yet in her quarters, as she’d said. When they’d first started...this, he’d felt awkward being in her rooms alone. They were ornate and grand, belonging more to the figurehead than the woman. Elaine confessed to him a few months in that she liked when he stayed over because they sometimes felt so empty.

Now, Cullen moved across them, laying his cloak across back of the sofa. He undid his sword belt and plopped down with a content sigh. His body was very happy with him when he sat on soft things.

Something crackled underfoot, and he bent down to pick up a crumpled piece of paper. When he saw the Trevelyan crest, Cullen knew it was a letter.

He had to put it down. It was none of his business. It was violation of her trust to read it. But the last line caught his eye; _a schoolgirl’s fancy_.

-

“Cullen?” Elaine called as she climbed the stairs. He didn’t answer; she spotted him bent over on the sofa. “What are you doing?” she asked, the smile fading when he turned to look at her.

He looked anguished. He rose, and she saw the crumpled piece of paper in his trembling hands. “I shouldn’t have read this. I know that.” It was her father’s letter, she realized. The one she’d thrown on the floor because she hadn’t wanted to look at it for another second. Panic bloomed in her chest, hot and choking.

“No,” she said slowly, trying to keep her voice from cracking. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and closed his eyes. “Elaine…”

Elaine pressed her fists against her eyes to keep the tears away. “Alright, alright, let’s talk about this.” The pieces were slotting into place. She knew Cullen, she knew how he thought and she knew how he had arrived at this despairing place in front of her. She just had to talk to him first. She had to explain herself, explain her plan. She hurried forward and took the letter from him. “This means nothing, Cullen. My family wants me to solve their problems. I can’t do that. I’m already doing that for everyone else.”

“You would get your titles back, if you married.” Cullen said hoarsely. “You could stabilize the region for years.”

She seized his hands. “I’m working with Josephine. We’ll figure something out. We always do.” She was crying openly now, and tears pooled in his amber eyes.

“Your father is right, Elaine-”

“No-”

“I can’t be so selfish. I can’t be another person who takes a piece of you-”

“Cullen, please-”

“You should,” he whispered. “You should marry him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh dudes...i'm so sorry this is late! and sad! :0 
> 
> this is totally unedited, i wanted to get it out there. i'll fix it soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Cullen watched her chest rise and fall as she slept on the sofa. The soft beginnings of light glowed around the window panes, and he felt wearier than he had for many months.

They had talked late into the night, sometimes getting somewhere and overall getting nowhere. Cullen could not budge, as painful as it was to watch her cry because of him. He had to wait her out until she fell asleep, red-eyed on his shoulder. Cullen felt as if he’d severed one of his own limbs. He stood up and was leaving a piece of himself behind. He didn’t even have it in him to cry. It was a grief that went bone deep, all the more painful because it was of its own making. But he was doing the right thing. Maker, he hoped so.

Skyhold was just starting to stir back to life. but Cullen heard none of the sleepy greetings from its residents as he passed through the hall. He only saw her face, broken and betrayed in front of him. He felt sick. He had fooled himself into thinking that this happiness could be his, but he would only end up disappointing both of them. In the end, he could give her nothing worthwhile. How useful was he, really, without a war to fight?

The journey from her room to his was a mindless one. He trudged up the ladder and collapsed into bed out of sheer mental and physical exhaustion. His sleep was restless. He dreamt at one point that she was beside him, smiling sleepily as the sun caught her hair. He woke. He listened to the emptiness of his room. He was alone.

-

Elaine blinked awake, and had a peaceful heartbeat before remembering. Cullen had left her here, and he had _left_ her - her breath caught, but her head was too aching and dry for more tears. She pried herself up from the couch and pulled her knees to her chest. Cullen, of all people, to upend her entire world.

There was a knock on the door. She sighed, considering leaving it be, but there was a second, more vigourous knock. She dragged herself to the door and opened it a crack, so whoever was on the other side could not see her completely.

“Inquisitor!” squeaked a serving maid. She bowed, almost losing the silver tray balanced in her hands. “I have breakfast. And a message from Lady Josephine. She says she hopes to see you at the council meeting in a half hour, as she uh…” the girl’s cheeks pinked. “She’s “not sure if she can keep Leliana in check if you miss another.” Her words. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Elaine croaked. She opened the door enough to take the tray. “You can tell her I’ll be there.”

She didn’t want to go, of course, but if she missed many more meetings she wouldn’t qualify for her title. It would be painful to see his face, but walling herself away so much over a problem in her love life seemed wrong. She wasn’t giving up yet. The letter had scared him, but she just needed to convince him that he was enough.

Elaine ate what she could stomach, and made herself up as best she could before heading to the war room. To her surprise, she found only Josephine.

The ambassador smiled apologetically at her. “It seemed my message was unfounded. Leliana was called away to Orlais. I presume they want to speed up the process as soon as possible.”

Sometimes Elaine forgot her friend was to become one of the most powerful figures in Thedas, and then she remembered it like a blow to the face. Was this what it was like to know her? She was about to ask after Cullen, when the enormous door creaked open and he entered. He looked as terrible as she felt, which almost cheered her up, but he wouldn’t meet her eye. Stubble, darker than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes gave him a slightly gaunt appearance. She could almost see what he looked like before putting on his soldier’s weight.

“I met Leliana on her way out,” he said gruffly. There was an awkward silence, in which Elaine was looking at him, he was not looking at her, and Josephine was casting a baffled glance between them.

“Well,” she said finally, “I suppose we should begin. Empress Celene, who still supports us fully, has reached out. She has heard of the unrest in the nobility and is holding a summit, if you will, at the Winter Palace.”

Elaine knew she should be feeling gratitude towards the empress, but the last thing she wanted to do was go to Orlais in full Inquisitor mode, pretending she was fine.

“It is several weeks out,” Josephine continued. “I know how you feel about these things, Inquisitor, and I would be happy to go. However, I think it would be good for them to see you there. A show of strength.”

“I understand.” Elaine’s eyes flicked to Cullen, who stared resolutely at the war table.

“We can speak more about it as it grows closer. Now, Loranil, of the Dalish encampment in the Plains has reached out…”

-

The soldier of Skyhold were brave and devoted. They would, and did, lay down their lives for their cause.

They were also terrible gossips.

“I’m telling you,” Recruit McDuff muttered, “Something’s up.” He and several others huddled in a group to the side of the training pitch, as two soldiers sparred and Commander Cullen stood off to the side, engaged in a furiously muttered conversation with a terrified messenger. “The man looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.”

“D’you think it’s the lyrium?” Recruit Calen squeaked. She was a tiny, delicate boned Dalish elf.

“It’s not lyrium. He kicked it a long time ago.” This was Recruit Peterson.

“Idiot, you don’t just _kick_ lyrium. You always want it!” McDuff shoved Peterson, who shoved him back. They scuffled for a moment before Calen wriggled between them.

“Please!” she hissed.

“Right. Besides, I don’t think it’s lyrium. He was just fine yesterday.”

“More than fine, I’d say,” Peterson grinned, recalling the scene when the Herald had come over to the ring. Maker, what a woman. Peterson would have spent a lot more time thinking about her if it didn’t feel like perverting Andraste herself. He yelped when Calen smacked him on the arm.

“Don’t be crass. I think they’re wonderful. Maybe it’s some serious Inquisition stuff?”

McDuff shook his head. “Nah, are you kidding? They can’t keep anything secret. This whole place would be losing their minds.” He crossed his arms and frowned, staring openly at Cullen. The usually well-kept commander had dark circles under his eyes and a new, severe line in his forehead. His hair was bordering disaster, and from what he could see, Cullen was feeling a little crabbier than usual.

Then, Cullen made eye contact with him. McDuff gulped and looked away, but too late.

“McDuff!” Cullen shouted. “You’re up!” He gestured sharply to the sparring ring.

-

“Varric, _what did you do_?”

Varric set down his book. He had learned a long time ago not to panic in these situations. “Why Seeker, this time I’m afraid I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

To his surprise, instead of looming over him like she usually did, Cassandra sank heavily into a chair.

“Something is wrong. Cullen is making people cry. Do you know who they come to when this happens? I could barely escape today.”

Varric frowned. “Maybe Curly’s just having a bad day. Just tell the Inquisitor. Let her work her magic.”

“The Inquisitor has barely been seen outside her room. I checked. And Josephine tells me they were behaving oddly in the war room today.”

“Have you been gossiping, Seeker -”

“Shut. Up.” Cassandra grit her teeth. “You said you could fix this. What happened?”

“I thought I did fix it.” This wasn’t good. The last time he’d seen them, they’d been all disgusting together at breakfast yesterday. That meant something had happened in between that he didn’t know about. “I really don’t know. If those kids can’t keep it together…”

“This is a distraction that we cannot afford, Varric.”

“No, no, don’t give me that.” Varric grinned at her. “You like them together.”

Cassandra sighed, crossing her arms. “I have known Cullen for a long time. The Inquisitor, comparatively shorter, but if two people ever deserved happiness…”

Varric cocked his head. “You...deserve that too, Seeker.”

Cassandra looked at him in surprise. Her face was open, vulnerable as it rarely was. She looked younger. Varric found himself without anything to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to update more often, so that means shorter chapters. i appreciate your patience, and as always, thank you so much for reading. this is officially the longest thing i've ever written!
> 
> side note: i have not played trespasser yet, and this will not be following canon. no spoilers, please! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse.

It never ended. She had to compose a missive to the Dalish, dine with a Rivaini ambassador, meet with Mother Giselle, write several more letters, and dine with a group of Orlesian merchants. Elaine was too exhausted to seek Cullen out by the time night fell. Things continued like this for several days. If she showed her face outside, there was a problem with the new stable acquisition or a shortage of healing supplies. Briefly, she wondered if everyone else was out sick, and then felt terrible for her selfishness. Her time did not belong to her. She had committed to that choice long ago.

It was several days later when Elaine, on word that he was in, approached his office door. They sometimes went a few days without seeing each other, but they always made it to bed together at least and she had a terrible emptiness in her. She couldn’t accept it, however. He was being stupid, as she had been so recently, but she could help him see. He would be awkward and sorry, but she didn’t care as long as they healed the aching spot that held her love for him. Varric was right. They belonged together.  

About to open the door, she hesitated. And knocked. It felt stiff and wrong. She hadn’t knocked for months.

“Come in,” Cullen grunted on the other side. Elaine inhaled and opened the door.

He didn’t immediately look up as she entered, and she took the moment to watch him. He was pale, like he hadn’t been eating, and the circles under his eyes had only gotten worse.

“Hello, Cullen,” she said softly. His head snapped up. His expression flitted from naked want, to sadness, to shame, and finally a poor attempt at neutrality.  

“Elaine.” His throat moved. “Is there something you need?”

He had asked that question a thousand times before, but there was something hurtful in it now. A carefully pronounced detachment.

“I-” she laughed a little because she had to; this was ridiculous - “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the whole thing with the letter, my parents…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I should never have put you in such a position.”

He’d said this before, but now Elaine found herself moving forward with a frown. “What position, Cullen?”

He looked away from her. “I should never have expected you to do what wasn’t best for the Inquisition.”

His words hit her like a punch to the stomach. The words moved thickly off her tongue. “What’s best - Cullen, I love you. What else matters? What else _is_ there?”

Cullen closed his eyes. Elaine circled the desk and tried to catch his gaze, an answer, anything, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t say that he loved her back.

“Cullen.” Her voice cracked. She hated how weak she sounded. how her eyes ached from crying. It felt like a horrible dream. Control over reality had gone from her; she was trapped in this slipstream of grief and confusion with no way out. “Cullen. _Please_.”

The tension that he had been taut with since her entrance exploded; he slammed his fist on the table and rose with the tide of his anger. She jerked back.

“Damn it, Elaine!” Cullen snapped. “Why are you making this harder? Maker, what more could I _possibly_ say?”

He already looked like he was regretting his words as he said them, but the damage was done. Elaine said nothing, but he watched her eyes and mouth harden. He’d seen this face many times before. She wore it into battle; it was a look of quiet, glimmering rage. It was the Inquisitor who looked at him now, as he had finally pushed away the woman he loved. Cullen tasted the faintest trace of sparking magic on the back of his tongue.

“You,” Elaine said quietly, “Do not get to speak me that way.”

They stared at each other, then she spun on her heel and stalked out of the office. On instinct, Cullen began to go after her, but he pulled back and sank into his chair. He sighed, and buried his face in his hands. It was better this way. It would be easier for her if she hated him.

-

 _Dear Mother and Father_ , Elaine wrote, then took another drink. The swill she kept finding in burnt down houses really came in handy.

She burned with anger. Several crumpled versions of the same letter littered the floor. Her level of intoxication was chartable in the legibility of her drafts. She had to hold her hand to keep it from shaking and smudging the ink.

_I accept your proposal. I don’t want to discuss it further._

She was tired of being sad. She didn't want to think about how Cullen had thrown away the most important relationship of her life like crumpled paper. As if all they had been through together was meaningless in the face of more politics.

She especially didn’t want to think about how he had proven her assumptions right after all. Now that they had arrived at their life together beyond Corypheus, he had stared it in the face and decided it wasn’t for him. Elaine had never thought of Cullen as a coward, but he’d seen an out and taken it.

Her hand paused over the parchment, and she remembered his fist slamming on the desk.

_Please arrange all through Josephine._

-

“Josephine.”

Josephine jumped. “Oh, Inquisitor. I did not expect to see you before the meeting.” She smiled. Elaine could barely bring herself to smile back. Her head and heart ached, but the letter was sent last night and there was no turning back. Cullen had made that quite clear.

“I have to tell you something. I…” The letter was on its way. There was no turning back. Elaine swallowed thickly. “I will, in fact, be marrying James Lethlean. I would be very grateful if you could arrange it.”

Josephine stared at her. Several emotions flickered across her face before her mouth snapped shut. “Inquisitor. Elaine.” She said the name slowly, carefully, as if it was breakable. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Just - please.” Josephine nodded. “I think this can help us in Orlais,” Elaine continued. “They’re not the biggest fans of Fereldan, but this ties me down. They’ll understand me better. Also, I’ve been told I can get my titles back from this marriage.” She exhaled. “The nobles will have to be more careful if I’m one of them.”

-

Cullen walked across the courtyard, his mind spinning in overtired circles. He had not spoken to Elaine directly since that horrible night in his office. He missed her beyond belief. Her face haunted his dreams, as well as the curve of her neck and her pale, angular wrists. Sometimes she was angry with him in the dream and sometimes she would smile, but when he reached for her she was always just beyond his grasp.

She wouldn’t look at him during council meetings.

He knew that everyone was tiptoeing around it, him in particular. He’d gotten some pitying looks and invitations to the tavern, but he had no energy to pretend at social gatherings. And besides, Cullen knew they'd all be watching to see who he'd bring to tears next.

He stopped when he heard swords. Except it wasn’t swords, exactly - it sounded like magic made solid. The essence of it hovered thinly in the air. He walked towards the sparring ring.

Two figures spun around each other, spectral swords flashing in the sunlight. Vivienne was a sculpture come to life, a seamless show of elegance and strength. Her experience showed clearly as they sparred, but what Elaine lacked in technical ability, she made up for in unrelenting power. Cullen watched as she swung the sword like an extension of herself, fingers curled tightly around the staff in her other hand. They moved in a complicated dance. Sweat gleamed on Elaine’s forehead, but she showed no signs of stopping.

If he was less experienced with combat, Cullen would have no idea they were simply sparring. But both held themselves back in small ways, restraint evident in the span of their movements. At one point, the swords slammed together and held there. The women strained against each other for a moment before pulling back, panting. The blades vanished with a hum.

Cullen realized they would see him now, and began to turn away. It was too late.

“Good show, my dear,” Vivienne said loudly. “I think our Commander rather enjoyed it as well.”

He turned back, and they were both looking right at him. Vivienne with a piercing half smile, obviously curious how he would respond. Elaine was stone faced.

“Yes,” Cullen nodded, wanting very much to get away. “That was impressive. I’m glad to see…” he trailed off and coughed. “If you’ll excuse me, Madame de Fer. El - Inquisitor.” She jerked when he used her title, as if she’d been shocked.

“Commander,” Vivienne nodded, glancing between them.

His eyes burned hot as he walked away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the sad :C


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elaine goes away, Cullen melts down.

“Right,” Sera said, eyes narrowing. “She's _what_?”

“Getting married.” Dorian poured her another drink, paused, and did the same for himself.

“That makes sense though. Bound to happen. They're all gross for each other.”

“Not Elaine and Cullen,” he repeated patiently.

Sera snorted. “Did a book fall on your head or something? A spell gone all wrong?” She waggled her fingers at him, as if to accentuate her question. “You don't usually talk nonsense.”

Dorian sighed and took a long drink. “She's marrying someone else, Sera. A Fereldan lord.”

“That makes no. Bloody. Sense.”

“We were all as mystified as you, my dear.”

No one outside of the inner circle knew about the engagement, but gossip spread fast in Skyhold, and everyone knew that something had gone wrong between the Inquisitor and Commander. The mood in the tavern was a bit somber. The two had become a beacon of sorts for the Inquisition. It was a terribly romantic story; love found in the midst of war and suffering, two people destined for happiness and a gaggle of beautiful, blonde children. It was the kind of story that made most people swoon. Dorian had found his own story, but he understood the appeal. It was...rare, to see two people with so much unbridled affection for one another. With such a deep friendship, as well as love. What happened to that now?

“Ugh,” he said aloud. “I need to stop drinking whatever swill is handed to me. You and Bull are terrible influences.”

When Sera didn't answer with a snippy retort, he peered over his shoulder at her. The elf's face was dark.

“I thought she was better than that.”

“Better than what, exactly?”

“All that noble shite. Marrying for _titles_. I knew she was fancy and whatever, but I thought she was different.”

Dorian softened. “Sera. Don’t tell me you’re a romantic.”

Sera slammed her drink down on the bar. “Urgh, whatever. I’m gonna go shoot at birds, or something.” She slipped unsteadily from her stool, wobbling a little she was steady enough to walk away.

“Try not to kill anyone by mistake,” Dorian drawled at her retreating figure. She shot him a rude gesture without looking back.

-

“What happened to the other formal wear?” Elaine whined as attendants moved swiftly around her bedroom. They were packing for Orlais, although she was certain several trunks of glittering finery had appeared where there had previously been none. Gown after gown was laid out for her approval, for a seemingly endless string of occasions that she would be attending.

“We will wear the uniforms for purely political occasions,” Josephine said tiredly, “but we are attempting to keep the nobles happy. This means attending their events, and dressing the part of the beautiful noblewoman.”

“And I now have to look beautiful to be acceptable, in their eyes?”

“Elaine - _Inquisitor._ ” Josephine sighed. Elaine’s annoyance faded, guilt flaring up to take its place. Josephine was just trying to do what Elaine asked, and she was only making it more difficult for her. “When you marry, you will be one of them. I have to prepare you for what that entails. I know it is difficult to understand if you did not grow up playing the game, but please remember that I am on your side.”

“I know, Josie. I’m sorry.” Elaine felt the inkling of a headache behind her eyes, and rubbed exhaustedly at her temples. Sleep was difficult now - restless. It was the most banal thing, but she had gotten used to sleeping with someone else and now woke up every time she rolled over and hit the cold pillow. She missed him. She felt hollowed out. “Please, tell me again how this will go.”

She was looking at an exhaustive week in Orlais, with political meetings during the days and Inquisition sponsored balls and dinners at night. At the end of their visit, Elaine would be officially announcing her engagement to James Lethlean in front of Empress Celene and every noble figure of note in Thedas. Vivienne and her envoy had already been sent ahead to do preliminary politicking and take care of last minute arrangements.

While she clashed with Vivienne at times, the formidable woman had been indispensable in these past few weeks. She had a bottomless well of knowledge about politics and society, and she was a model of iron forged strength that Elaine could only hope to emulate. And Vivienne was, refreshingly, one of the only people that did not tiptoe around her feelings. Even Elaine’s best friends were treating her as if she would break if they brought up Cullen’s name. Elaine didn’t want to be sad anymore, and Vivienne didn’t let her.

“Alright, let’s look at the engagement dresses again.”

-

Skyhold was operating at a rather bare capacity, as almost everyone had attempted to wheedle their way onto the official envoy to Orlais. Even if he had not severed ties with the love of his life so she could marry another man, Cullen had no desire to be poked and prodded at by drunk nobles night after night. He had barely convinced Josephine that he (and several disgruntled companies of soldiers) needed to stay behind at the castle for ‘security reasons’.

Of Elaine’s inner circle, only Cassandra also remained. Cullen knew that she hated politicking as much as he did, but he was also convinced that she had stayed behind to make sure that he didn’t plunge back into less than savory coping mechanisms. She kept showing up where he was at odd hours with half-baked excuses, asking him thinly veiled questions about his well-being. It was driving him mad. It was also very touching.

They made up the war table while the others were gone, and although Cassandra was doing her grimacing best to spare him from the official correspondence from Orlais, Cullen knew he could not eternally avoid his duties because of problems in his personal life.

Josephine was nothing if not thorough, and sent detailed reports every few days of what the Inquisition had been up to. These reports, of course, centered around Elaine. They were mostly boring stuff – dinners with so and so, balls at Lady Whomever’s estate, successful participation in the summit at the Winter Palace. However, every time Elaine was mentioned, Cullen felt an ache in his chest.

What he felt now, however, was no ache. It was desperate, flaring pain – it made him want to cry, or lash out, like a wounded animal.

The worst part was, as the cooler part of his brain told him, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known it was coming. He stared at the letter he had just opened, the air knocked out of him.

_Sir James Lethlean arrived two days ago. Tonight, the Inquisitor announced her engagement to him in front of Empress Celene and court. Was very well received._

He felt Cassandra enter behind him. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she grumbled, “an idiot in the armory briefly misplaced my sword. We had words.”

When he didn’t answer, she tensed and took the letter from his hand.

“I must –“ Cullen croaked “ – I mean – I have to go.” He let her have it and swept out of the room, ignoring her sharp call for him to come back. It was unprofessional and rude at best, especially to a friend like Cassandra, but he couldn’t bear to speak to anyone at that moment. He was doing his best to even stay in control. He hadn’t felt like this, so wild and afraid and full of loss, for years. And all the while, his own words rung in his ears.

_You could stabilize the region for years._

_I can’t be so selfish._

He was worse than selfish, because he had done this under the pretense of nobility. But Cullen did not feel noble at all. He wanted erase James Lethlean from existence, and he wanted Elaine back. He wanted her more than anything, and now he was beginning to realize that he always would. It wasn’t a dalliance he could just get over.

He had made the biggest mistake of his life.

-

News of the Inquisitor’s engagement spread quickly amongst the remaining occupants of Skyhold, and her return was met with cautious optimism. Although they may not have liked or understood it, they trusted Elaine. It made walking through the courtyard awkward for Cullen, as the soldiers and citizens gossiped together in excited clusters, growing guiltily silent when he passed. They liked him too, but their feelings for Elaine ranged from deep trust to devotion. She inspired hope in the bruised and broken, and that was more powerful than their opinions on her love life. The Herald of Andraste did not face questioning from her followers.

Cullen joined Cassandra near the gate, cheeks heating as she took in his appearance. He had spent the last few days in a drunken stupor, to put it mildly. The list of people he needed to apologize to was ever-growing, and now included the barman at the tavern, the soldier who had obviously lost a bet and had been sent to enquire about his well-being yesterday, and the maid he had frightened earlier that morning while vomiting in some bushes. At the top of the list was Cassandra, who he had been pointedly avoiding during his meltdown. If she decided to use the power he had given her long ago to replace him, he wouldn’t blame her in the slightest.

Instead, she wrinkled her nose, and without looking in his direction said “Cullen, you smell.”

Before Cullen could even begin to think of a good answer, the gate groaned open.

“The Inquisitor!” someone shouted excitedly, and that excitement rippled through the gathered crowd. Sure enough, the gate revealed an approaching party on the bridge. At its head was the Inquisitor.

She looked stunning astride her horse, dressed in rich blue mage robes. A gift, maybe, he had never seen them before – they billowed around her as she rode. Her hair was pinned in an elaborate braid atop her head, and the sun bounced off it in a golden halo. Her face was calm, even as the crowd began to cheer for her.

Cullen realized that for the first time, he had no idea what she was thinking.

Instead of the advisors, as was customary, James Lethlean rode beside her. He was just as handsome as the last time Cullen had seen him, what seemed like many years ago at Elaine’s parents’ home. He shot them all a dazzling smile, and a tiny ball of anger flickered back to life in Cullen’s gut.

As Elaine rode into the courtyard, those that had gathered to meet her stepped eagerly forward to give their best wishes. Cullen let them overtake him, not retreating completely, but he knew he would be unable to speak a word to her in that moment.  

She slid down from her horse, greeting each one with the same polite enthusiasm. She must have been exhausted, but she never let it show in her face. Cullen could see what it was like in that moment to love her from afar. It was easy to see her as a gleaming monument if you didn’t know the flesh and blood woman underneath – if you had never seen her real smile. The smile of the Inquisitor was convincing enough. The only crack in the armor was when her bright blue eyes passed over his, just for a moment – a flicker of _something_ – but she looked away from him so quickly that he thought he may have imagined it.

The rest of the envoy began to filter in behind her, filling the courtyard a lively clatter that it had sorely missed. Cullen considered making his escape to his office, as things were becoming chaotic enough that he would not be missed for a while. The last time the Inquisitor had returned from a long journey, he had been by her side – loving her so deeply that he was paralyzed by fear and anxiety over what she wanted and what she thought of him. He hadn’t begun to truly comprehend, however, what it would feel like to see her next to someone else, lost to him.

Out of nowhere, amidst the noise, Varric appeared at his side. The dwarf gave him a once over and nodded. “About what I expected.”

“Excuse me?” Cullen muttered lamely, but Varric ignored him, head cocked in sympathy. 

“Curly, how ‘bout I buy you a drink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you are still reading this, you're amazing and i don't deserve you.


	10. Chapter 10

Elaine was bone-tired, but the Inquisitor was not. She couldn't be. Josephine had cautioned her that these next few weeks would be a careful balancing act, as her engagement was sudden and a surprise to everyone who knew of her relationship with Cullen. So far she had been met with only good wishes, but it was important, Josephine told her, that she do her part to ease the transition. As Elaine Trevelyan, she thought it was wildly unfair that she had to shove aside her own needs and desires in order to please her followers. As the Inquisitor, however, they were long past those conversations.

She had spent the afternoon showing James around Skyhold, per Josephine’s existence. It had taken so long to bring him around the winding keep that the sky had begun its turn towards nighttime. Elaine had purposefully saved the tavern for last, as if she couldn't lock herself away in her quarters, an ale, at least, would help. 

“And this is the Herald’s Rest,” she said, trying her best to still sound cheerful. Ever the gentleman, he gave her a delighted smile and opened the door for her.

It was a busy evening in the tavern, those that had traveled to Orlais sharing news with those who hadn’t, and vice versa. Iron Bull, who Elaine was sure had gone along to Orlais just to see how many nobles he could shock again, was raucously reunited with the Chargers, a bemused Dorian at his side. Josephine, who was rarely seen in the vicinity, was playing some sort of card game with Leliana and Cole. Elaine had to smile at the sight of her people, happy and safe.

“Quite the lively place,” James said as he looked around, green eyes crinkling handsomely. There was a part of Elaine that felt sorry for him. He was doing his best to make his people happy, just like she was. She didn’t sing the praises of the nobility very often, but there was something sad about not being able to fully map out your own life.

“My lady?” James lightly touched her arm. “Are you alright?”

She was drifting. Elaine shook her head and smiled at him. “Lost in my thoughts for a moment. And please, call me Elaine. We're going to be married, aren’t we?” The words tripped from her tongue, ringing wrongly in her ears. It sounded like a bad punch line of a dream, just before she reached enough awareness to wake up. 

“Elaine. Let me get you a drink.” He was off to the bar before she could tell him what she wanted, but she supposed it didn’t really matter. The Herald’s Rest specialized in ale, awful liquor, and liquor that was worse but got you drunk faster.

She took the moment of his absence to let the mask off, to let in some of the pain and exhaustion. Despite her best efforts, she missed Cullen with every waking breath. It had waned a little simply with the distance of the past few weeks, and Josephine had kept her so busy that she barely had time to think. The night before she announced her engagement to the court at the Winter Palace, however, she’d cried herself to sleep. And being back in Skyhold had brought it all roaring to the surface. She felt like an open wound.

It was hardly a consolation that Cullen continued to look miserable. He was impossible to read since he’d broken things off with her, and Elaine did not want to get close enough to try.

James reappeared at her elbow, two ales in hand. “This seemed safest.”

“A good choice. Better save the hard stuff for when they want to start getting to know you.” He chuckled warmly, but it brought her no little rush of pleasure as it had when Cullen laughed at her jokes. It was the little things, really, that she missed the most. She smiled nonetheless, and took a drink. “Let’s find a place to sit upstairs.”

It wasn’t that the mood was hostile towards them, but Elaine was not ready to start acting as if everything was the same. It would be a crime against her own sanity.

The second floor was not as busy, and it only took a moment for her eyes to find Cullen and Varric, seated at a table in the corner. Her whole body was telling her to run while her better manners begged her to stay. The result was that she froze, long enough for Varric to catch sight of her and Cullen to turn around to see what he was looking at.

Cullen was, to put it kindly, a mess. He had several days’ worth of stubble, and his hair was in complete disarray. His eyes were glassed over with alcohol, cheeks pink and mouth half open.  Before, she would have laughed it off and put him to bed. Now she could only stare, doing her best to school her features into blankness. Not that it would matter much in his clearly intoxicated.

To her mortification and Varric’s obvious amusement, Cullen clattered to his feet, chair knocking against the wall. Elaine just caught the mumble of her name. 

“Oh,” James said beside her, low and surprised. They stood like that for a moment, all staring at each other, before Elaine realized that everyone who was upstairs was watching them very intently while pretending not to. This was the opposite of what she wanted.

James, who had realized the same thing but recovered faster, moved forward with purpose. If he noticed the state Cullen was in, his mild, polite expression didn’t betray a thing.

“Ser Tethras, what a pleasure to see you again.” Varric gave him a bemused, slightly sardonic hand wave.

Elaine followed mutely behind, unsure of what to do. Cullen had not stopped staring at her, and she did her best not to meet his gaze.

“Commander Rutherford. It is an honor to meet you once more under happier circumstances.” James set his ale down on an empty table, and outstretched his hand towards Cullen.

Cullen didn't look at him until Varric nudged him in the arm, and then startled like a man woken from a deep sleep. His eyes moved from Elaine to James, and then from James to James’ hand. His expression of muddy drunkenness turned into one of intense dislike. To James’ credit, his smile didn’t waver. The moment stretched to unbearable length, before Cullen broke the silence by tossing a few coins in front of Varric. Elaine was so tense that she jumped at the sound.

“Thanks for the drinks,” he slurred, and shoved his way towards the stairs so suddenly that James barely had time to move out of the way. He brushed past Elaine, jaw set like steel. She gaped after him. It was unclear if Cullen Rutherford had ever been so rude in his life.

"Did I do something wrong?" James asked, puzzled.

-

Cullen awoke with a splitting headache, and a knot in his back that could only herald the arrival of old age. He realized blearily instead that it was due to the fact that he had been sleeping on the floor of his office.

“You are lucky to even have the blanket,” Cassandra snapped. With a groan, he rolled over and at saw her, sitting at his desk with her hands on her knees. He was an absolute mess, and he felt horrible to match. A wave of nausea rose in his throat, and he groaned. “If you’re going to vomit,” Cassandra continued, “you can do it _after_ our conversation.”

“Cassandra-“ he tried, but stopped when she held up her hand.

“No. Your behavior has been abominable. You embarrassed the Inquisition last night, and you embarrassed the Inquisitor.”

Cullen’s cheeks burned hot with shame. He didn’t doubt it, but he had to recall what had even happened last night. He had gone to have a drink with Varric, and oh – he resisted the urge to groan again – Elaine had been there. With _him._ He had been rude, he thought, but Cass seemed to be angrier with him than some rudeness would merit.

“I left,” he said quietly, breathing from his nose so he didn’t throw up. “After –“

“You made a scene in the tavern,” she replied sharply. “And made your way to the kitchens. You argued with them for a while when they wouldn't let you have another drunk. Then, you stumbled your way around and eventually fell asleep in the Great Hall. In front of everyone. It took four of your men to get you this far. They were relieved when I told them they didn’t have to carry you up the ladder.”

“Maker,” Cullen breathed, burying his face in his hands. “Cass, I’m so sorry.”

She sighed. “Cullen, I…I consider you a very dear friend. And I understand what a hard time you are having. You won’t talk about it, which is fine. But I wouldn’t be doing my duty as your friend if I didn’t tell you that you need to stop this. Or – we may need to consider some other options.”

It stung, more than he could even admit. But she was right. When he was going through lyrium withdrawals, he had felt alone, anonymous, and replaceable. However, this position and the friends he’d made meant something to him now. He may have lost the love of his life, but Skyhold was the first place that Cullen had felt at home. The last thing he wanted was to lose that as well.

-

It was the first meeting of the war table since Elaine had returned, and surprisingly, everyone was present. Leliana had not officially named her successor as spymaster, but Scout Harding had been around the castle much more often lately, and Elaine suspected that she was being groomed to take over. It wouldn’t be much longer now before Leliana went to the Sunburst Throne, transcending her role as their friend and becoming something much greater and more distant. Elaine tried not to think about it too much.

Cullen’s presence also surprised her, as last she’d seen he had hardly been a state to fulfill his duties. Elaine was furious that he had treated James so rudely. The behavior was so unlike him, and yet, she thought darkly, hadn’t he been proving her wrong for a while now?

While he did not look fully himself this afternoon, he had clearly bathed and shaved his dark stubble. He had even done his hair, something she would tease him about in their former life together. There _was_ something changed in his manner – a distance in him that had not been present for some time now, not since she had broken it down to find the man underneath. It was as if he had removed himself from them, which worried her. While she was angry and brokenhearted, Elaine could not completely erase the part of her that cared for Cullen, person to person. They were friends before they were lovers, after all.

Josephine was trying her best to steer around the immense awkwardness of their situation, but that was difficult to do when the bulk of the Inquisition’s future business revolved around the upcoming wedding. It had been decided that the wedding would be held at Skyhold, with dignitaries from all over Thedas coming to pay their respects to the Inquisitor. Although Skyhold was in decent shape, there were a lot of preparations that needed to be made before it could handle that volume of guests. It also meant increased security.

“With people this high profile, we need to be prepared for anything,” Josephine told them.

“Won’t they bring their own people to watch out for them?” Elaine asked.

The ambassador looked uneasy. “Relying on all of their independent security would be too risky. We can work with them, but we also need to ready ourselves.”

“Commander, this means my people working with yours,” Leliana drawled. Before he could protest, she cut in again. “I have no doubt of the abilities of your men. They carried us through some very dangerous moments. We would not have reached Corypheus without them.”

Elaine snuck a glance at Cullen, and thought she detected a gleaming of pride under his blank expression.

“However,” Leliana continued, “They have not been trained to detect trouble inside the house, so to speak. We need them to be wary of everything.”

“Fair enough,” Cullen replied. It was the first he had spoken since the session convened. “But I insist that your men are refreshed in combat training, in turn.”

“Fair enough,” Leliana echoed with a wry smile. Josephine seemed pleased that no one was drunk or crying yet.

“Very good! Now, Inquisitor. How has Ser Lethlean been settling in?”

“Uh-“ Elaine stammered, taken by surprise. “Well, he’s…” Josie and Leliana were looking at her, Josie hopeful and Leliana inscrutable. Cullen’s face had darkened, and he stared resolutely at the floor. Elaine was struck anew with anger. He was rude to her fiancé, he pretended she didn’t exist, and she had word from Cassandra that he wouldn’t speak to anyone about what had happened. He had ended things between them in the first place, and yet he had the nerve to pretend _he_ was the wronged party?

The most infuriating part was that the second he asked, she would have taken him back.

“James is doing _wonderfully,_ ” she said, eyes fixed on Cullen. “I think he’s fitting in quite well.” Cullen looked up in surprise and met her eyes, lips pressed together so tightly that they were almost the color of his scar. Instead of looking away again, however, he held her gaze, hazel eyes boring into her own. Elaine felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, but she held her ground, ignoring the frantic animal beating of her heart. Maker, she missed him. His mouth under hers. Pressing herself against him. She wanted to unravel him now. To pull him apart. For a second, she saw her own desire reflected in his eyes.

“Well – good,” Josephine said slowly. Elaine jerked out of it. She was tingling all over. He didn't want it. He didn't want them to be together.

She cleared her throat. "Let's continue."


	11. Chapter 11

Cullen realized, in the middle of his mountain of paperwork, that it was far too quiet. He hadn’t been bombarded with the usual litany of messengers in a while. No problems at the training grounds or the armory or the stables. No last-minute requisition requests. No one had gotten lost and accidentally barged into his office, as was happening more often now with the increased flow of guests at the castle. Although he shouldn’t have been complaining, the peace gave him a vague sense of unease. Hopefully if they were under attack or seized in some kind of mass spell, someone would have been kind enough to tell him by now.

He left his office and went out into the parapets, stretching in his boots to see over the entire courtyard. The culprit of the quiet was easy to spot. A crowd had formed around the sparring ring, and inside of it, two figures danced around each other, sending flashes of light hurtling, and then dissipating into the impossibly bright noon sky. He recognized them both, even before he descended and made his way over.

It was Elaine and Dorian, sparring with magic. If he’d thought Elaine competent with her knight-enchanter abilities, that was nothing compared to what he saw now. She wore magic like a second skin, moving too fast to possibly be thinking about her next choice. It was all instinct and experience. Cullen hadn’t had the chance to see her in combat very often, and he forgot sometimes how formidable she truly was. Dorian was lithe and lethal with a staff, but Elaine bore hers like it was a sword. She was all offense – just relentless, punishing magic. It seemed to light her up from the inside out.

Cullen had a fraught past with magic, but in her, it tugged at him. He tasted it on the back of his tongue.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” James Lethlean said beside him. Cullen hadn’t noticed him, and it was too late to retreat now. He wanted to, more than anything, but Cassandra’s warning still sat heavily in his thoughts.

“Yes,” he replied curtly.

James smiled at him. Cullen realized, after a moment, that the other man was sizing him up. “Commander. Have I done something to offend you?”

The crowd gasped and rippled around them. Cullen glanced up to see Dorian on his back, Elaine panting with her staff to his throat.

“Yield, Pavus,” she demanded.

“Never, _Inquisitor,_ ” Dorian smirked, and in a blindingly quick second, sent her toppling to the ground beside him. Cullen moved a little towards them, instinctively, but Elaine rolled out of the other mage’s way and climbed to her feet, wiping a little blood from the corner of her mouth. A few people in the audience applauded.

She looked happy, Cullen realized. Happier than she had been in months.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he lied, keeping his eyes on Elaine.

“But see – right there.” James pointed. “I see the way you look at her.”

Something began to uncoil in his gut – something low, burning, jealous, prideful. It felt good to indulge it. He couldn’t help it. Something in James just brought out a nastier side in him. He didn’t answer, and continued to watch Elaine. The hidden strength in her willowy frame.

James seemed unbothered. “I saw it in Ostwick as well – I was worried about it, actually. I didn’t want to come between anything that already existed. The Lady Herald – Elaine – owed me no obligation.”

Cullen couldn’t help but twitch a little when he heard this.

 “I even took it upon myself,” James continued, “to ask Bann Trevelyan and Lady Trevelyan if I was interfering. They told me – and let me see if I can remember their exact words.” He paused. “Ah, yes. They told me that your intentions were not serious.”

Cullen was staggered. Not serious? He had planned to _marry her_. To have children and grandchildren with her, to grow old hand in hand. Not serious, when he had staked his life to hers, this astounding, powerful, gorgeous woman. If the Trevelyans had told James that Cullen wasn’t serious about their daughter, they had lied.

Or, the nagging thing in his gut suggested, she had told them that herself.

“Again, Ser Lethlean,” Cullen repeated, looking James right in the eye. “I don’t know what you mean.”

James’ smile said that he didn’t quite believe him. “Good. I want to make Elaine’s life as easy as I can. That means putting a stop to the interference of any past heartbreaks.”

Cullen may not have been proficient at politicking and socializing, but he was still a smart man. Back off, James was saying underneath. Stop interfering in her life, or face the consequences.

He really hated him, and James knew it. 

-

“No,” Elaine told Josephine firmly.

An hour later, she was reflecting on that moment from horseback. If Josephine ever turned evil, no Inquisition could possibly stop her.

What was once a solo, much needed ride alone into the Frostbacks was now a multi-person expedition including some twenty-something girls from Orlais, a few of their parents, James, and Cullen, who the girls’ parents had insisted accompany them for ‘protection’.

More people were arriving at Skyhold by the day, and everyone was feeling a little cooped up. Elaine hardly had a second to herself, which was why she had been looking forward to this ride. She was not allowed on far-reaching missions until further notice, as Josephine had lectured her that morning for the umpteenth time, it would not look good if the Inquisitor died before her own wedding. Or worse, was maimed in some way unfixable by magic.

Late spring in the Frostbacks meant that the foothills had turned lush with green. Elaine had discovered a particularly lovely spot about a year ago, one that she had, up until this point, only shared with Cullen. They had shared some lovely moments there, and some less lovely, more heated ones as well. He clearly knew where they were going, as he had been staring rigidly ahead since they’d left. The tension connected them like an invisible string.

“Excuse me, Inquisitor,” one of the girl’s fathers called in his thick Orlesian accent, riding awkwardly up beside her. The Duke of something. Elaine couldn’t even pretend to be keeping them straight any longer. “Isn’t this trip a bit _dangerous_? I’ve heard there are barbarians living in these mountains.”

The girls, a few paces behind them, broke into giggles, no doubt at the idea of a ruggedly handsome warrior springing from the trees, dressed only in a kilt.

Elaine sighed, and not just because this point had been addressed more than once before they left. “I assure you, your lordship, it is perfectly safe.” Did she know that for sure? Well, there were few certainties in life, and she couldn’t say she didn’t entertain her own fantasy about everyone else being kidnapped by the Avvar so she could enjoy some peace and quiet.

The duke huffed and fell back, allowing Elaine to subtly spur her mount forward, outpacing them all by a few more steps. At least it was beautiful outside. Nothing comforted her quite like riding in the fresh air. If she tuned out the sounds of the other riders and kept her eyes straight ahead, it was almost as if she were alone.

Suddenly, there was a high pitched shriek.

Elaine spun around so quickly she was almost upended by her own momentum, heart beating hard in her throat. She didn’t have her staff, only the dagger strapped to her side; if they were being attacked –

“My handkerchief!” of the girls was crying, pointing down the ravine. “It flew away!”

It was probably a good thing Elaine didn’t have her staff at that moment, because she would have blasted the girl right off her horse. A quick glance told her she was not alone in her feelings. Cullen’s face was pale and rigid, hand still at his sword. James had recovered the fastest, but there was the slightest ripple of disapproval underneath his handsome, placid features.

“Sophie,” the girl’s mother chastised, “You frightened us all!”

“It’s _Antivan_ ,” she snapped. “It’s one of a kind, you know that!”

Perhaps calling her a girl was unkind, as she was closer to Elaine’s own age than not. But the fact that she had never heard the word _no_ before meant they came from different worlds. Elaine had as hard a time understanding the Orlesians’ lives as they would would understand facing down an undead Tevinter magister.

“Please,” Sophie continued, face turning plaintive as she turned towards them all. “Won’t someone get it for me?” Then she focused on Cullen, and her red lips curled into a smile. “Please,” she said again, but all of the little girl helplessness had bled from her voice. Elaine really looked at her. It had been easy to ignore the Orlesians panting after Cullen at the Winter Palace. It had been easy to ignore the stacks of glossy, perfume-scented, ornately sealed marriage proposals that arrived so often. But this girl – this woman – was not so easy to ignore, because Elaine had stake in the matter, but no longer any say. Cullen could be with whoever he wanted, including the raven haired, long-lashed, fine-boned Sophie de Whomever.

Cullen grimaced and ran a hand through his hair – hesitation - and Elaine felt a little thrill – but then James was climbing down from his horse. “Lady de Roux, you cannot ask the Commander to retrieve your handkerchief in all that armor. I will fetch it for you.”

Cullen flushed at this, and began to climb down from his horse as well. “The lady asked me for my assistance, and I will give it.”

Sophie and her friends had clustered together, giggling behind their white-gloved hands. The mothers watched, pleased (particularly Sophie’s). The duke looked unhappily, as he had spent a few too many years eating rich food and drinking wine to be able to fetch the handkerchief himself.

The handkerchief in question, an intricately embroidered scrap of red silk, was stuck in a bush a little way down the ravine. It was not far, but the climb was steep.

“Please,” James countered, making his way towards the edge, “We wouldn’t want you to fall. I’m sure the Inquisition still needs its commander, even in peacetime.”

Cullen stalked forward, shedding his gauntlets and tossing them into the dirt. “We wouldn’t want _you_ to dirty those fine clothes.” The Orlesian girls shrieked with glee, and Elaine gaped. It was simply unbelievable. Cullen Rutherford, with one of the most powerful positions in the Inquisition, was taking the bait in a pissing contest like a petulant child. James was by no means innocent in the matter, but he wasn’t in charge of her _armies._ It didn’t seem to be about the handkerchief, either. Neither man had spared Sophie a second glance.

“Stop, both of you!” Elaine commanded, but the men ignored her. They had already begun to clamber down the side of the ravine, disappearing from view. The girls climbed down from their horses in a flurry and ran over to watch, their parents following suit. Elaine huffed and slid down from her mount, stalking over angrily to where she could see them as well.

The men were well-matched, climbing down the rocky hillside at an equal pace that had _nothing_ to do with the fact that they were trying to out-race one another.

“Unbelievable,” Elaine muttered, hands flexing. She was helpless up here, unable to anything but watch and hope they didn’t fall. They were doing well so far, carried, she thought, by a wave of threatened masculinity and their own stupid egos. James began to outpace Cullen, which shouldn’t have disappointed her (it did), and soon he had reached the bush. Elaine watched as he began to reach for the handkerchief, biting his bottom lip in concentration. Hair mussed, a well-placed smudge of dirt on his cheekbone, he looked like the cover of one of Cassandra’s romance novels. Sophie and her friends certainly noticed.

Cullen’s face was thunderous, and he ascended the ravine without a word as the girls cheered. James grinned in triumph put the handkerchief between his teeth, which was gallant looking but completely unnecessary, and began to climb as well. However, he had lost his rhythm, and when he raised his boot towards the next foothold, he slipped.

-

Cullen paced up and down the length of his office, head swimming with anxiety.

He hadn’t meant for things to go so far, but the desire to prove himself had blinded him. He had wanted to show that he was in control of something – anything – but he couldn’t even rein in his own feelings. He’d tried to swallow his pride and speak to Elaine on the way back, but she’d ridden ahead of him the second he opened his mouth.

The door to his office swung open, and Elaine strode in as if someone had cued her.

“Elaine,” Cullen breathed, too shocked at her sudden appearance to react. She stopped just short of collision, jabbing a finger into his metal breastplate.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Elaine hissed, cheeks pink with anger. Cullen could have cried. He was close enough to see the light smattering of freckles on her nose. “You have a responsibility, Cullen. You’re supposed to be a leader, and you acted like bloody child!”

“I know,” he said.

It didn’t seem to be the response that Elaine was expecting, and she hesitated just long enough that he saw her eyes soften – she seemed to realize the significance of the fact that they were speaking to one another. “Then _why_?" she continued. "What was the point? You’re lucky that James only broke his wrist, something worse could have happened to either of you!” She sucked in air through her nose. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what,” Cullen murmured.

“Like you love me.”

He swallowed thickly. Her steely blue eyes bore into his own.

“I do love you. I’ll always love you.”

Maker, it was such a relief to say it out loud. To stop pretending that he would ever be okay again without her.

Elaine shook her head, eyes welling with tears. “You don’t get to do that. _You_ wanted this. _You_ told me – “

Feeling breathless, weightless, Cullen moved towards her. “You told me…” Elaine repeated, softer. She put a hand on his chest, but as he continued to move, inch by inch, gazing into her eyes, the hand fell.

He kept moving, closer, closer, until their lips grazed but didn’t touch and he held her there, cheek to cheek, brimming over with unbearable ache –

He felt wetness on her cheek –

Elaine wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

-

It felt like coming home.

Cullen moaned into her mouth, sending a bolt of heat down her spine. Elaine tugged at his armor, pressing herself to every inch of him that she could reach. She wanted to feel him underneath.

They kissed like they were starving: desperate and deep. Desire had no morals or qualms and leapt to life inside her. She broke the kiss, panting. “I want you, Cullen. I want you.”

He growled and seized her wrists, backing her against the wall and pinning them above her head with the other. She could feel his cock harden against her leg and she pivoted just enough to grind against it.

She was sensitive, and she threw her head back with a cry. Cullen put his mouth to the exposed column of her throat, scratching with his teeth and then laving over with the flat of his tongue. Together, they fumbled at his belt, until Cullen hissed, “Void take it.” There was a tearing of cloth but he shoved his trousers down, his hard, pink cock springing free. Elaine pushed her leggings off her hipbones and realized that Cullen was drinking her in.

“Maker, I’ve missed you,” he breathed.

Elaine swelled with emotion, but couldn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed his cock, twisting her fingers deftly. Cullen leaned in and nipped her ear, lifting her by the waist, high enough to slide between her wet folds.

He cried out her name, grabbing a fistful of her hair so hard it almost hurt as he began to thrust. She dug her fingers into his neck, legs wrapped around his waist. It was unsteady and graceless, the room filled with their grunts and sexes sliding together, but was lightning to her core and in that moment Elaine would swear it was the best sex she’d ever had.

She clenched around him and dragged him into an embrace and they fucked like that, in each other’s arms. She could feel the heat building and she ground down on him at just the right angle, coming so hard that her vision whited out. Cullen gave one last piercing thrust and shouted against her skin, mouth pressing wetly as he jerked, coming inside of her.

He collapsed, panting. Slowly, he slid out and braced her thighs so she could put her legs down. Elaine had to hold on to him for support and they just stood like that, together. Breathing in, breathing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys have been waiting for this and i'm nothing if not a benevolent god. ;)  
> thank you for your kudos and comments! they keep my cold, drama loving heart beating.

**Author's Note:**

> so. i feel like this is the romance/comedy/drama i was always meant to write. any feedback is so loved and appreciated! more coming soon.


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